Expecting the Unexpected
by Limony Picket
Summary: This classic Beauty and the Beast story starts out with something relatively simple, but evolves into what could become an absolute disaster. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

**Expecting the Unexpected**

**By BriAnna aka ActingBug92**

**Authors Note:** I do not own any of the characters. Catherine, Vincent, Father, Joe, and all the other characters belong to Ron Koslow and CBS, respectfully. Also, thanks to L. Frank Baum for _the Wizard of Oz. _Please read and review, and let me know what you think! Any suggestions that could help me make Vincent, Catherine, or any other characters more real are greatly appreciated! Thanks – Love to you all!

1

Catherine gasped for breath as she leaned over the toilet, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. It was the third night in a row where she had felt this way, so nauseous and sick. But after a few hours, she felt fine and ready to go – until the next night that was.

_Maybe there's some kind of bug going around_, Catherine thought as she got up off of her hands and knees, and flushed her lunch down. She rinsed her mouth out with water and went to go lie on the couch.

Soon after she lied down, she heard a tapping sound on the French doors that led out to her balcony. And as much as she loved the person out there, she couldn't help but be a little frustrated.

_Out of all the nights to come see me, Vincent, you had to choose tonight, of all nights. Right after I vomited, right when I feel like vomiting again._

Nevertheless, she pasted on a smile as she opened the doors and slipped outside, into the cool New York City air.

"Catherine," Vincent said, nearing her and resting his hand on his arm. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." Catherine said, still smiling, even though she didn't feel like it.

Vincent looked at her doubtfully. "Are you sure? Catherine, you can't hide anything from me – our bond - are you really all right?"

Catherine nodded. "Just a little stomach flu." She told Vincent. "I think I'll just take off sick from work for awhile – and stay away from the Tunnels too. The last thing you need is for someone Below to get sick."

"Would you like me to bring you anything?" Vincent asked concernedly.

Catherine sighed, letting her fake smile go. "Thank you Vincent, but I'm fine. All I need is a bit of rest."

Vincent nodded hesitantly. Catherine sensed that he came up to her balcony more than to make sure that she was okay.

"Vincent," Catherine said softly. "What is it?"

Vincent took a deep breath. "I'm not sure. It's…" Vincent grasped for the words. "It's a sense… not like our bond, but a sense. I'm sensing someone else… sensing their presence…"

"Well, we're alone on this balcony." Catherine reassured him. "And nobody is renting the apartments next door, so-"

"No, no, not that." Vincent said. "Someone else. I feel it no matter where I am. Whether I'm in my chamber, Father's study, the Mirror Pool. I sense it – this person – no matter where I am. But when I turn around, no one's there."

"Maybe it's just your imagination," Catherine suggested. "Or you've been reading too much _Sherlock Holmes_." She added on a lighter note.

Catherine took note of the seriousness on Vincent's face, and tried to take what he was saying a little more seriously. Maybe it _wasn't_ his imagination. Maybe Vincent really sensed something – or someone.

"Who do you think it could be?" Catherine asked. "When you met me, you just _knew_ that you were sensing me, as I was sensing you."

Vincent shook his head, his mane of red-blonde hair blowing in the wind. "No, it's different than our bond. It's… just different. I can't even begin to describe how real it is…"

"Have you talked to Father about this?" Catherine asked him.

Vincent nodded. "Yes. Father said to mention it to you, and to not worry about it too much, that soon I'll find out why I'm sensing this person."

All of a sudden the nausea came back to Catherine. She took a deep breath. "Vincent, I think I'm going to be sick again – I've got to go."

"Catherine, do you need any help?" Vincent asked, concerned.

She shook her head, stepping inside her apartment, but not yet closing the French doors. "No. Just go home – and be safe."

And with that, she shut the doors and rushed towards the bathroom, making it to the toilet bowl just in time.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

Vincent tossed and turned in bed. Most nights he was able to get comfortable and drift off to sleep relatively easy. But tonight was one of those occasions where no matter how hard he tried, he just could not get comfortable – or get tired enough to sleep. His mind was preoccupied with the sense he was feeling. It seemed that as every hour passed, it was getting stronger and stronger. And the more he thought about it, it had started out extremely small about a month ago, but slowly started to build to now, getting to the point where he was just now starting to notice it.

_Who is this person? _Vincent wondered. _And why am I sensing him – or her?_

Vincent got out of bed and struck a match, lighting the lantern on the table beside his bed, and there, he began writing.

_I have no idea who I am sensing, or why. I should only be sensing Catherine, but I am not. There is someone else, but who? It can not anyone Below, or any of our Helpers – I would know it if it were. I'm still sensing Catherine, but I'm sensing someone else too. Who could it be? I must not know this person, so why am I sensing him – or her? It seems though, everyday the sense grows stronger. Maybe, as time goes on, and as the sense gets stronger, I'll find out. Maybe as each day goes by, the stronger the sense gets, the closer I get to meeting the person._

_It seems that I've been sensing this person for quite some time now. Sensing the person a little more all the time, but the sense has grown much stronger in the past month. Maybe I'm sensing someone I met last year, during the sickness. It frightens me to think about the sickness still. I've had it twice – once when I was an adolescent and again last year. What is it and what makes me act that way? I can't remember anything that happened in the weeks I had the sickness. I feel though, that it is connected to the sense I'm feeling, somehow._

Vincent wrote straight on for the next forty-five minutes, not thinking about what to write before he wrote it. He was still writing when Father stuck his head in Vincent's chamber.

"Vincent?" Father said to him. "What are you doing up at the hour?"

"It's Catherine, and our bond, and… that other sense." Vincent explained.

"Vincent," Father said, letting himself fully into Vincent's chamber and taking a seat across from his son at the table. "If this person you're sensing is a true person, then you'll find out. You'll find out when you need to. And now, is obviously not the time."

Father stood up and started out the chamber, but not before he turned around and continued talking to Vincent.

"Get some sleep; goodnight, son." He gave Vincent an affectionate kiss on the forehead before leaving his adopted son's chamber to retire for the night.

Vincent signed off his journal entry reluctantly, and then made his way back over to his bed. He knew that Father was right, that he should get some sleep.

_But how am I supposed to sleep with this on my heart? _Vincent asked himself, sliding under the covers. _This sense is so – so odd. With Catherine, I can feel when she's happy, I know when she's depressed or in danger. When she's afraid, I feel her fear. But this person I'm sensing, I don't feel what they are feeling. I don't know what they are thinking… ever. How could a human being not have emotions? Are they feeling what I'm feeling?_

_Maybe this is a different sort of bond than the one Catherine and I share. Or maybe what Father mentioned earlier this morning is true, that I'm just imagining this other person and that I'm not sensing anyone at all._

But Vincent knew in his heart that his mind wasn't playing tricks on him. He was truly sensing another person…. Not their emotions or occasional thoughts maybe, but their presence, that person's connection with him somehow. But how were the two of them connected? Vincent didn't know, but he vowed to find out before he fell into a very restless slumber.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"No, really; I'm fine." Catherine assured her boss and friend, Joe Maxwell. Catherine worked at the District Attorneys Office.

"It's just a little stomach flu." Catherine continued to Joe, switching the phone from her right hand to her left.

"Well, if you're sure." Joe said. "Take care, Radcliffe."

"I will." Catherine said with a smile. "Bye." And with that, she put the receiver back in its rightful place.

Turning from the wall that the phone hung on, she plopped down on her couch and began massaging her temples. The nausea had come back at about four in the morning and lasted for a couple hours, so Catherine was a little more tired than usual.

She picked up a copy of _The Wizard of Oz_ off the coffee table. She had tried to read earlier that morning, but that had only made her nausea worse. However, now that she was feeling better, she wanted to flip through the book again, to reminiscence her childhood.

_The Wizard of Oz_ had been a favorite movie of hers when she was a child, and more recently, she started re-reading _Wizard of Oz_ books. She was borrowing some of Vincent's books to read, not owning very many _Oz_ books herself.

Just as she was getting immersed in the fairy-tale story, the phone rang. Catherine got up off the couch and went to answer the phone.

"Hello, Cathy Chandler." She answered the phone in her typical way.

"Hello, Ms. Chandler." A nasal voice said. "This is Dr. Annette Lowery's office to remind you of your annual appointment this afternoon at three o'clock."

"Shoot." Catherine said. "I forgot! Are you sure that its today?"

"Yes ma'am." The person said. "At three o'clock."

"I'll be there – thanks." Catherine said, hanging up the phone.

_I suppose its for the best_, Catherine thought with a shrug. _With the way I was feeling last night, a little check-up couldn't hurt._

Catherine plopped down on the couch to continue her reading.

_Dorothy told the witch all her story. How she met her companions, and of the wonderful adventures they had along the way_, Catherine read with a smile. Somehow, she reminded herself a lot of Dorothy. Like Dorothy, she had truly loved her home, but something seemed to be missing. Something she was lacking. It seemed that she was missing out, that she wasn't making a difference, and while she had every reason to be happy, she wasn't very happy at all. And then, like Dorothy, she experienced a traumatic experience – for Dorothy it was a tornado, and for Catherine, it was a mugging. But through both experiences, they discovered another world. True, Catherine's new world didn't involve a brainless scarecrow or heartless tin man. And as for cowardly lions, Vincent's outer features may _resemble_ a lion, but as far as Catherine was concerned, he was a man, and was definitely not cowardly, more like chivalric, though when going through his mad state, quite unpredictable.

But anyways, once they left their new worlds, Dorothy and Catherine were both new people, and for the better, Catherine was sure. Dorothy learned that if she ever went looking for her heart's desire, she shouldn't go looking further than her own backyard, because if it wasn't there, she hadn't really lost it to begin with. And Catherine was introduced to what became her _life_, and ultimately, her family, especially after the passing of her father.

Catherine gave a little smile, thinking of the Tunnel people, and especially Vincent. Last year, Vincent had gone through a stage where he had gone kind of mad, and things that happened during that time, Vincent had no memory of, for which Catherine was very grateful. The events that had taken place then had left Catherine traumatized for a while, but then she found that it worked best if she was the only that knew they had taken place, and that she kept them in the back of her mind, trying to block or forget them all together. That's when she remembered what Vincent had told her last night;

"_It's a sense… not like our bond, but a sense. I'm sensing someone else… sensing their presence…" that's what he said, right?_ Catherine thought. _Who is Vincent sensing? If not me, than who?_

Catherine couldn't help but feel a little peeved. Not at Vincent, or even at the person he was sensing, because neither of them could help it, she was sure. But the bond the Vincent and Catherine shared was real special to Catherine, and the thought of someone else… intruding, bothered her. But quickly, she cut off the bond. The _last_ thing she wanted Vincent to think was that she was mad at _him_. She wasn't, was she? I mean after all, when Vincent had gone mad – no, she wasn't angry at him, especially for things he couldn't help.

Once the feeling passed though, she opened up the bond again though, and as soon as she did, a guilty feeling plagued her.

_Guilty? _Catherine wondered. _Why should I feel guilty?_ That's when she realized that she wasn't feeling guilty – it was Vincent. But why was Vincent feeling guilty? She didn't know, but she had a feeling that it had to do with her.

_Oh my gosh, he doesn't remember does he_? Catherine thought _worriedly. No, he can't. So whats he feeling guilty over? S_he was bound and determined to figure out why, and she was determined to do it right then.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

Vincent continued his nervous habit of pacing back and forth. He was at the mirror pool, hoping for some nice peace and quiet where he was certain he wouldn't get disturbed. And he was right, well, partially. Nobody disturbed him and the mirror pool was quiet, but peace was the last thing that happened. His pondering the new bond had opened up a new thought for him.

"Why am I feeling this person?" Vincent growled quietly in his confusion. "I'm only supposed to be feeling Catherine. I didn't get a chance to really speak about this to Catherine last night – maybe that is a good thing. I don't want her to feel as if she's getting _replaced_. Maybe she shouldn't know about this." But Vincent suspected that it would be next to impossible for him to keep a secret from Catherine, and that suspicion would prove to be true a moment later, when he heard a voice behind him.

"What shouldn't I know about?" he heard Catherine's soft voice behind him.

Vincent quickly turned around to face the entry of the mirror pool. Catherine was standing there, waiting for his answer.

"What shouldn't I know about?" Catherine persisted, taking a couple steps closer to Vincent.

"Catherine," Vincent said. "You shouldn't be down here. I-I'm busy."

"Apparently." She said, but not leaving. "You seem very busy wracking your brain, and you're feeling guilty. Vincent, what's wrong?"

Immediately, Vincent regretted not trying to close off the bond as he ran through his thoughts, trying to rationalize them. He should have realized that she would know something was wrong.

"Catherine, please, let me be alone." Vincent pleaded.

Catherine hesitated. _The last time he told me to go, I didn't listen, and I should have, so should I leave now? No, no. He wasn't in his right mind then – everything will flow smoothly now. _She shook her head. "No, Vincent. Something is wrong, and I think I can help." She sat down on the ground and motioned for Vincent to sit beside her.

Vincent took a deep breath. "Catherine, last night, I mentioned sensing another person."

Catherine nodded. "I remember."

"This person I'm sensing… the bond is different than ours. Not clear at all." Vincent searched for the words. "I just don't want you to think that… you're not being replaced in my heart. You could _never_ be replaced."

Catherine nodded. "I think I know that. And I have to confess," she sighed, looking at Vincent in the eyes. "I was feeling a little irritated thinking that I have to share you with someone else. I'm just glad we both got this out in the open."

Vincent just nodded, his eyes narrowing in concentration.

"What's wrong?" Catherine asked her friend.

Vincent shook his head. "This person is closer. The sense isn't any clearer, but the person, physically, is closer."

Catherine looked around. "Well, there's no one here besides you and me. Do you have any information on this person? Maybe I could try to help."

Vincent shook his head. "I don't know anything on this person. All I know is that I'm sensing them – I don't even know if this person is sensing me or not."

"And if it's not one of the Helpers or someone Below, than you more than likely don't know this person." Catherine concluded. "You'll probably find out who it is sooner or later."

Vincent nodded. "Father said the same thing."

"And he's usually always right." Catherine reminded him, standing up, wiping the loose dirt off of her pants. "Well, I have to get back to my apartment. I've got a couple errands to run."

"Let's go then." Vincent said leading the way towards the Tunnel entrance in the basement of her apartment, but making sure she was nearby.

On their way up top, they chatted about many things, such as Mouse's newest contraption, a new book, a new system of Pascal's, etc. And while Vincent was trying not to show it, he kept thinking about this person he was sensing.

_If someone would mention this person, I'd know it's the person I'm sensing. I'd know immediately… I _know_ it._ But the trouble was, Vincent didn't know who that person was, much less where to find the person or why he was sensing the person.


	2. Chapter 2

"Catherine Chandler," the nurse called her name.

Catherine stood up from the chair she was sitting in the waiting room and followed the nurse back down the hall. It was 3:15PM later that day and she was at her doctor's appointment.

"If you'd please remove your shoes and step on the scale." The nurse said to Catherine, her pencil positioned over the form she was waiting to fill in.

Catherine slipped off her shoes and stood on the scale. As usual, it hit the 130 lb. mark.

"Good," the nurse said. "Now, if you'll please sit down, Ms. Chandler?"

Catherine sat down on the chair the nurse motioned to and held her arm out, to have her blood pressure tested. While her arm was being squeezed, her blood pressure being tested, the doctor continued asking her more questions.

"When was the last time you had your period?" the nurse asked next.

Catherine shrugged as she thought back. "I don't know…" she said. " I think a little over a month ago. I made a note of it in my planner – let me look." She began digging through her purse.

"My record shows that your menstrual cycle is irregular." The nurse noted.

Catherine shrugged. "Doctor Lowery said its nothing to worry about; it just spaces out more than most people's." she found the planner she was looking for. "It says March 22nd."

The nurse raised her eyebrows. "That was nearly two months ago!"

"Yes, it was." Catherine said slowly, realizing that it had been nearly full two months since her last period. "I-I don't think my period ever has been _that_ irregular." But she wasn't too alarmed, so she just shrugged. "I had a bit of spotting last week. I'll probably start any day now – nothing to worry about."

The nurse nodded hesitantly. "All right, if you say so." She said. She handed Catherine a small plastic cup. "Can you go into the bathroom and get me a sample, please?"

Catherine nodded, taking the cup from the young woman and going into a nearby bathroom. And all the while, she was wondering about her period. It was awful strange that it hadn't come yet, but Catherine still wasn't worried. Her periods were irregular before – she probably had marked the wrong date in her planner anyhow.

After a couple more tests, like vision and such, the nurse led her into a small office covered with bright sunflower wallpaper and told her that Dr. Lowery would be with her shortly, and left. Catherine picked up a magazine lying on the counter and began flipping through it. It'd be a good wait, she knew. Dr. Lowery had a lot of patients, and probably wouldn't be in to see Catherine for at least another half hour, so Catherine just sat back and relaxed.

Sure enough, in forty-five minutes, Catherine heard the familiar sound of Dr. Lowery's clogs hitting the floor outside the door. there was a quick knock on the door before Dr. Lowery let herself in the room.

"Hello Catherine!" Dr. Lowery greeted her patient.

"Hello Dr. Lowery." Catherine returned.

Dr. Lowery checked her chart. "Your here for your annual?"

"Yes." Catherine replied.

"Jaycee, the nurse who checked you in, mentioned that your period has been especially irregular?? Dr. Lowery brought up the subject again.

Catherine nodded. "It's been about two months, but I'm bound to start any day now. You can take a look at my records - my period tends to be irregular."

"Uh-Huh," Dr. Lowery said as she looked over Catherine's charts. "Are you sexually active?"

"What?" Catherine asked, taken aback. "Sexually act- No, no, no, I'm not."

"Hmmmmmm.." Dr. Lowery said. "Not at all? Your a virgin?"

"Well, no, I'm not a virgin..." Catherine said slowly. "I-I, well, did, well, yes, I guess you could say I'm sexually active." _It was just once_, Catherine thought, biting her lip. _On complete accident on both of our parts, almost. He was about to go mad, and I didn't know!_

"I see." Dr. Lowery said with a frown as she re-looked over Catherine's charts. "Jaycee mentioned that you said that you had 'a bit of spotting'."

"Yes," Catherine said. "You know, just a few spots of blood - it usually happens when I'm about to start my period." She hated that Dr. Lowery was making such a big deal over her late period. After all, it wasn't like she was pregnant or anything!

"Have your breasts been tender at all?" Was Dr. Lowery's next question.

Catherine shook her head. "Not that I can recall."

"Any nausea?"

Catherine nodded. "I've had a bit these last few nights - it's probably just a bug going around."

"Also known as 'morning sickness'." Dr. Lowery said.

"Morning sickness?" Catherine asked. "No, I don't think so. Remember, I've only been having the nausea at night."

"Ms. Chandler, morning sickness can happen at any time of the day, not just in the morning." Dr. Lowery laughed. "We're going to run a test on your urine sample - see what we can come up with."

"B-But, I'm not pregnant." Catherine grasped for the words. "I can't be."

"Ms. Chandler, I'm not saying your lying about your sexual activity," Dr. Lowery told Catherine. "But remember, its very important to tell me things like that."

"I'm not lying!" Catherine exclaimed. "Do you really think I'm pregnant?"

Dr. Lowery shrugged. "We'll have to wait and see. Sometimes the tests come out wrong, and you are right, your period could just be a little late. We'll just have to wait and see."

_Am I pregnant? _Catherine's thoughts raced. _How could I be pregnant? It's impossible – well, not exactly _impossible_, but pregnant? It couldn't be Tom's baby – that was years ago! But when Vincent... it'd be Vincent's baby!_

"Dr. Lowery," Catherine said urgently. "Could I be pregnant even if its been years since I've had sex - in which I used birth control that I monitored _very_ carefully."

Dr. Lowery shook her head. "If the birth control was carefully monitored and its been several years, no. But," Dr. Lowery added. "if you've had sex somewhat recently, maybe a spur of the moment-"

Dr. Lowery obviously noticed that Catherine was getting upset, so she attempted to calm her down. "Let's not get overexcited. Tests are being ran right now. And even if you are pregnant, abortion is always an option. Now, lets get on with the exam."

_'Abortion is always an option'_ Dr. Lowery's voice ran through Catherine's head. _A option? Killing an innocent baby - an option? _Catherine was always against abortions, but generally remained quiet about her views. Now that her doctor was freely suggesting that she have one, it was a completely different situation. Suggesting that Catherine be cruel enough to murder her own child? How horrible.

"I think I'll go." Catherine said coolly, picking up her purse and heading out the office door and down the hall.

"But Ms. Chandler," Dr. Lowery began.

"Have someone call me with the test results." Catherine called over he shoulder as she slung her purse over her shoulder and went out the door of the building.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

Vincent wiped the sweat from his brow with his gloved hand. He had been working for the past several hours on repairing a water leak in a pipe, which was quite a job. Thankfully, he was almost finished, and was looking forward to time to read a book, having a chat with Father, maybe checking up to see what Mouse was currently making, or to play with the children. They all sounded so tempting and enjoyable that he couldn't decide which he wanted to do, but at least it kept his thoughts entertained while he worked.

Suddenly he felt Catherine. Her fear and confusion. Her worry. And then her anger.

_What is the matter with Catherine? _Vincent wondered, pausing in his work to pay close attention to Catherine's feelings. _She's walking down the street, and she's angry, and also full of fear, worry, and confusion. She was crying. She_-

She shut off the bond quickly, very suddenly, like she just realized that Vincent could feel what she was feeling, like she didn't want him to know. Like she was hiding something from him.

"What could Catherine want to hide from me?" Vincent asked himself, frustrated. "I must find out tonight, when I go Above."

That's what Vincent absolutely loathed about living Below and looking the way he did, that he couldn't go Above on his whims - it _had_ to be night. Even times when he had a strong need and desire to visit Catherine Above, it had to wait, and this time was no different.

_But this feels different_. Vincent thought as he began packing up his tools. _Something is the matter with Catherine that she doesn't want me to know about, and yet, I feel I must know. If the Tunnels were in danger, if she were in danger, or even if there was just a problem at work, she'd have no reason to shut off the bond. What could possibly be the matter?_

Vincent finished gathering up his tools in a bag, so he slung the bag over his shoulder as he trudged back to the main area of the Tunnels, where everyone lived. As he walked, he tried to get a hold of Catherine's feelings, but couldn't. She really didn't want him to know what she was feeling, otherwise she wouldn't try so hard to keep her feelings a secret from him.

Finally, he got back to the main area of the Tunnels. He dropped off his tools at his chamber and then headed towards Father's chamber, where he found Father in the middle of a chess game with Kipper - and losing.

"Vincent," Father said, looking up from the chess board once Vincent arrived in the chamber. "How did the pipe repairs go?"

"It should hold, for awhile, at least." Vincent told Father, taking a seat on the steps.

"I'd like to thank for having the willingness to go repair them on such short notice." Father thanked his son.

"Your welcome." Vincent said. "Father-" he paused, remembering that Kipper was in the room. Perhaps now was not the best time to discuss him and Catherine's bond, Catherine keeping secrets from him, and his wonder if the new sense of someone else was related to Catherine's secret.

"Yes, Vincent?" Father asked, his attention back on the chess board.

"Never mind." Vincent said with a sigh. "Good luck on winning the game." he added as he left Father's chamber.

"He'll need it!" Kipper piped up.

Vincent chuckled. Maybe he should relax. After all, worrying about things weren't going to help.


	3. Chapter 3

Authors Note: I fixed the typo on chapter 2. This chapter isn't as long as I would have liked, but other chapters thankfully make up for it. Thanks for all the gear reviews and encouragement – it really keeps me going! Love, ActingBug92

Catherine was sitting on her couch, her head in her hands. It was true - according to the tests, she was pregnant. She had just gotten off the phone with Jaycee, the nurse. Jaycee asked Catherine if she'd like to make a prenatal appointment, but Catherine declined. What if the child _was_ Vincent's? If a doctor found something strange in the child's blood, DNA, or if the child ended up taking after it's daddy physically, there would be questions, and Vincent, the child, and the entire world Below would be in danger.

_But the baby can't be Vincent's!_ Catherine wanted to cry out. _We only had sex that once, and-and it wasn't real! I mean, we did, but not like its supposed to happen! It was the day before Vincent went mad, so he doesn't remember! And if he had been completely in his right mind at the time, he wouldn't have suggested such a thing in the first place! What am i supposed to tell him, since he's forgotten?_

Catherine was reminded of hearing in Sunday School when she was a little girl, of a virgin woman named Mary who became pregnant with Jesus. _But this is modern times, 1990, _Catherine reminded herself_. Those kinds of things don't happen – Vincent wouldn't buy that. And could I lie to him? No, I couldn't do that!_

And then, without meaning to, she started to cry. She was crying with confusion because she couldn't understand why she was pregnant. She was crying with fear because she didn't know hardly what to expect, being pregnant with Vincent's child. She was worried, at what Vincent and Father would think and say, and yet, she was crying with happiness, overwhelmingly happy with the fact that she was going to be a mother, and have a child. She tried to shut most of these feelings out of the bond, but that took a lot of energy, so she finally gave up, and let her feelings freely run through, just crying and crying.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

Vincent hit his head lightly against the wall in frustration. What was wrong with Catherine? Someone needed to help her! There was nothing more Vincent would have liked better than climb up on her balcony right then and there and demand to know what was causing her so much grief. But he couldn't. There probably wasn't a time in his life he had felt this frustrated.

If only he could go up and see her! But no, it just so happens that he was born... different enough to have to hide for the rest of his life, or to face a life of being locked up like an animal, or even worse, killed.

_I have everything a person needs to live happily, _Vincent thought to himself. _I have a roof over my head, a place to lay my had, a place to eat, and people to eat with - I have a home. A place where I'm wanted, needed, and loved. But if I was normal, say like Devin, then I'd be able to take full advantage of everything life has to offer. I'd be able to go visit Catherine everyday, have access to all the books, information, and adventures in the world. like Devin. Devin gets to go to Europe, Africa, Ecuador, and Australia, just on his whims. He could have a wife and children without any fear of them having to spend a life hidden away, without hurting her, without being afraid of the child becoming his reflection in the mirror._

_It's not fair to be jealous of Devin though, _Vincent reminded himself. _Devin is a completely different man than you are. Don't let your worry for Catherine become a self-pity party. It's obvious that Catherine wants to be alone right now. She's in her apartment - she's safe. I can wait to see her until tonight. in the meantime, what will I say to her? I don't want her to think I'm trying to pry, or that I'm being overprotective. She's a grown-woman. She took care of herself before we met, and she can take care of herself now. It's you with the problem, Vincent. just calm down._

He tried to take his own advice, so he went to go see if Father needed anything more done, or if one of the children was having problems reading a book or something. It wasn't easy, but he tried to stay calm, and to not worry about Catherine.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

Once Catherine's tears subsided, she pulled herself off of the couch. The way Catherine saw it, there was no use crying about something you don't understand while something could be done to help you understand it. She looked in the mirror and wiped away the traces of tears, glad her mascara didn't smear while she had been crying. Then she grabbed her purse, and left, going straight to the nearest library.

The library had a huge selection of books on pregnancy. Catherine gathered an armful and attempted to make herself comfortable on a overstuffed sofa at the library.

"All right," Catherine opened the first book to the table of contents, the first chapter being called 'Conception'. "Just what I was looking for."

But after a full hour of flipping through many, many books, Catherine still only found the information she expected, that the child was more than likely Vincent's, not Tom's. It was _definitely _Vincent's.

_The ideal thing to do would be confide in a doctor you know and trust. But I can't tell Father! Father can't know yet! And Dr. Peter, he can't-_ Catherine stopped herself. That was it! Dr. Peter was a doctor she had known her entire life (literally!) and trusted. More so, he knew about Vincent and the rest of the Tunnel people existence, so she could tell him the whole story, freely.

She went up to the front desk. "Excuse me, can I use your phone?"

The woman at the desk motioned to a pay phone right outside the library. "Thank you." Catherine said, pulling a quarter out of her pocket. And then, taking a deep breath, she dialed Dr. Peter's number.

"Dr. Peter," she said as soon as he picked up the phone. "Its Catherine Chandler."

"Catherine!" Dr. Peter greeted her warmly. "How have you been? I haven't seen you since Winterfest!"

"I've been fine, up until now, I think." Catherine searched for the words. "Look, are you busy tonight?"

"Catherine, what's wrong?" Dr. Peter asked, concernedly.

"I-Its hard to explain." Catherine said slowly. "Please don't worry. Could we meet someplace tonight? I'd like to talk something over."

"Well, a good pizza restaurant just opened on Carlaw Street." Dr. Peter said. "I hear its-"

"No, no. Somewhere more private. I need to have a private conversation. How about my apartment?"

"Cathy, are you really all right?" Dr. Peter asked concernedly, calling Catherine by her nickname.

"Y-Yes, I-I'm fine." Catherine blinked back tears. "See you later tonight then?"

"Yes, I'll be there, seven o'clock."

"Goodbye, Dr. Peter."

"Goodbye, Catherine." Dr. Peter hung up the phone, shook his head in confusion, and than returned to his paperwork. Something was wrong with Catherine, something important. And even though she said not to worry, he really couldn't help it. It wasn't like her to be so upset. Maybe Father or Vincent would know. No, he must not tell anyone about Catherine's problem, even if he didn't know what it was. She confided in him and he needed to respect that.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"Vincent, what is it that's bothering you?" Father came up behind his son, Vincent hammering away on rock to make more chambers.

When his son didn't answer, Father took a deep breath and bravely spoke what he was thinking. "If its about Catherine, Vincent, then you just need to let her be. Maybe this new person you sensing is a male friend of Catherine's." Father paused. "You know, its for the best that she finds love somewhere Above."

Vincent hit the hammer with all of his strength against the wall with anger, and as a result, a lot of rock fell in dust onto the ground. "No Father, she's not in love!" he said fiercely, grabbing his father by the shoulders. "She's scared, worried, unhappy, and angry! Does that seem like love to you? I think not!"

Vincent loosened his grip on his Father and returned to his work, hammering the rock wall. Father was quiet for a moment, and than spoke.

"I must apologize, Vincent. I was out of place. To be quite honest, I'm worried about you. All day, you've been looking for work to do, to keep your mind off of things, it seems. And whenever you aren't working, you start pacing, and mumbling unintelligible things. And today, when you came to my chamber while I was playing chess with Kipper. I was blind not to see it but you wanted to speak with me, didn't you?"

Vincent stopped in his work, taking a deep sigh. Father could see that Vincent was reluctantly admitting that he was right.

"Vincent, there is nothing wrong with your love for Catherine, or that you care for her." Father continued. "it's quite natural. I was in love myself, once. But you can't let love get in the way of fate, Vincent. Catherine is destined to spend a life Above, and you, Below. She will get married, have children and move on. You will not. You know this."

"Father, that's enough." Vincent said quietly, but firmly.

'Vincent, you need to-"

"I said enough!" Vincent roared, his eyes blazing red.

Father took a deep breath, knowing the minimum of what his son could do in situations like the one they were in, possibly the most heated, dangerous, and angry conversation they've ever had, but one that Jacob Wells felt must be had.

"This has nothing to do with my love for Catherine, or her love for me!" Vincent shouted angrily at his father. "Nothing! Absolutely nothing!"

"Yes, Vincent, I understand that." Father said, choosing his words carefully. "Really, I do. But I do feel that your love for her affects some decisions you make, some not very wise. And I feel that you both must come to terms with the fact that your love can never intertwine."

Vincent threw down his hammer for the final time that day and stalked away, not knowing where he was going, but not caring either. There had been very few times in Vincent's life where he had treated his father the way he just had, and yet, in his anger, he did not regret it. He needed to be alone, somewhere with a guarantee that he wouldn't be disturbed, at least until eleven o'clock that night when he would go see Catherine. He knew he was acting irrationally to Catherine's emotions, and that he was carrying quite a few of them himself, but he couldn't help it. Father couldn't understand. Father would never understand.


	4. Chapter 4

**Authors Note: Again, as a reminder, I do NOT own Catherine, Vincent, or any of the other Tunnel characters. If I did, a made-for-TV movie would be in production right now, combining the best of BATB FanFic. Thanks to all of you for your constructive reviews – they help me out a lot.**

Catherine took a deep breath as the coffee started brewing. While she didn't care for coffee all that much, she absolutely loved the smell. She started to hum a bit as she checked on the apple pie in the oven. _Perfec_t, she thought._ It's almost ready._

She was so caught up on getting ready for Dr. Peter, she almost forgot why he was coming. But every time she remembered, a sickening feeling filled her stomach. She was pregnant – with Vincent's baby. But she couldn't tell Vincent! Even if Vincent did believe that he had raped her while he was out of his mind, that would only make the situation worse, not better. He would never forgive himself.

_Vincent, the father?_ she pushed that thought away. It was too weird, and to scary to even begin to think about. So much would be at stake.

There was a knock on the door. _that must be Dr. Peter, _Catherine thought as she hurried to the door and opened it. Sure enough, it was Dr. Peter.

"Catherine!" he greeted her, giving her a big hug.

"Dr. Peter," she greeted him with a smile. "How good to see you! Come in!"

"Mmmmm, is that apple pie I smell?" Dr. Peter asked as he stepped inside.

"Yes, it is." Catherine said, taking Dr. Peter's coat. "I thought you might want something to eat while we talk."

Dr. Peter looked at Catherine carefully in the eyes. "Is it serious?"

"Kind of, yes." Catherine replied, giving Dr. Peter a piece of pie and a cup of coffee, and motioning for him to sit down opposite of her, on the sofa across from the one she was sitting on.

Dr. Peter sat the pie on the table, and took a sip out of the coffee mug. "Catherine, what's wrong?'

Catherine took a deep breath, blinking back tears. "I-I had my annual today, and they told me that-that-"

"That what, Cathy?"

"That I'm pregnant!" Catherine burst out.

Dr. Peter stared at her, dumbfounded. "Say what?"

"I'm pregnant." Catherine repeated.

"Catherine, how- how could you be _pregnant_?" Dr. Peter asked in disbelief. "Did you and-and Vincent-"

"No." Catherine told him. "I mean, yes! I mean-"

"Hold on there, Catherine," Dr. Peter told her. "Let's start at the beginning."

Catherine took a deep breath. "Well, remember last year when Vincent went mad?"

Dr. Peter nodded. "It was like a demon took over him or something. He wasn't thinking clearly at all. He was dangerous, crazy even, and yet, you still wanted to follow him down to the deepest caverns in the Tunnels - alone."

"It was the day before." Catherine replied, wiping away a tear. "He wanted to, so we did, but if I had known that he was about to go out of his mind..." she broke down crying.

"Ssh, ssh." Dr. Peter attempted to quiet her, wrapping his arms around the fragile young woman. "It'll be all right. Why have you and Vincent kept this such a secret?"

"Vincent doesn't know!" Catherine wailed. "He doesn't remember anything from the day before he went mad! He thinks its still physically impossible for m to be pregnant with his child!"

"So you've lived with this all this time..." Dr. Peter wrapped him arms around her in a hug. "Poor girl – and you haven't seen a therapist or anything?"

"what am I supposed to tel them, that Vincent raped me?' Catherine asked. "Then imagine what they'd do. Besides, he didn't rape me, he just told me under no uncertain terms what he wanted."

Dr. Peter was surprised. "That doesn't sound like Vincent."

Catherine shook her head. "That's what I thought. But this was the day before we knew he was going mad, so I thought he was just being bold and daring, and I couldn't turn him down on such a rare occasion!"

"Catherine, pregnancy tests are wrong all the time. You should be tested several more times over the next coming weeks to be sure." Dr. Peter told her. "Let's say, if you were pregnant, how far along would you be?"

"About a month." Catherine replied.

"Have you mentioned this to anyone?" Dr. Peter wanted to know next.

"No." she replied. "No one - please don't mention it to anyone Below, especially. I don't want Vincent or Father to find out."

"Catherine," Dr. Peter began, amused. "How do you plan to keep this a secret? You, er, will grow in size, you know."

"I just want it to keep it a secret until I'm sure that I'm pregnant." Catherine clarified. "How soon could we run these tests your speaking of?"

"Tomorrow, lets get you tested again, and an ultrasound done. Er, Catherine? What if Vincent _is_ the father of this child?"

"If he is, there will be all the more reason to love the baby, won't it?" Catherine replied. "Once we find out, Vincent and I will figure it out. In the meantime, what am I supposed to do?"

"Meet me at St. Vincent's Hospital tomorrow morning at eight o'clock, and we'll see if we can verify this pregnancy or not, okay?"

"Okay," Catherine said, standing up to thank Dr. Peter. "Thanks, Dr. Peter - thanks a lot."

"Your very welcome." he replied.

They chatted for a few more minutes before Dr. Peter left, and once he did, after having an extremely emotionally draining day, Catherine fell asleep on the sofa, clothes, shoes, and all.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

Vincent pulled himself over the ledge and climbed onto Catherine's balcony. He peered through the French doors. There she was, asleep, on the sofa, fully clothed.

_Should I wake her up? _Vincent wondered. Quickly, he made up his mind and began to lightly tap on the glass.

She was still asleep, not even stirring. _Please, wake up Catherine! _Vincent silently begged. _Please, wake up! I must speak to you!_

And then, as if his thoughts worked magic, she stirred and opened her eyes. "What's going on?" she muttered sleepily.

Vincent again tapped on the door. Wearily, Catherine sat up and looked out a Vincent. When she saw him, her eyes widened in fear for a moment, and then turned back to normal as she stiffly got up from the sofa and let herself out onto the balcony.

_Did I see fear in her eyes when she saw me_? Vincent wondered. _I must have just imagined it._

"Hello, Vincent." She greeted him tiredly. She seemed to be acting more cautious and reserved than usual, which made Vincent get more worried about her.

"Catherine," Vincent began earnestly. "What is the matter? I feel your fear, your worry, your terror, your confusion, and yet, a glimmer of happiness. Tell me Catherine, what's wrong?"

"Oh, Vincent, its nothing." Catherine fibbed instead of coming out with the truth the way she nearly always did.

"Really, because I don't believe that." he replied. "Catherine, does it have anything to do with me?"

Catherine inhaled sharply. "Why would it have anything to do you?" she asked, beginning to get snappy. "The whole world doesn't revolve around you, you know."

_I must be patient with he__r, _Vincent told himself. _Her day must have been really rough._ "Catherine, your afraid of me, right now."

"How would you know?" she answered more sharply than before, obviously getting angry.

"Our-our bond, Catherine." he told her, never before seeing her quite this angry, especially at him. "I'm worried about you – you've been afraid, traumatized, and confused all day, and-"

"Maybe you should pay more attention to yourself instead of nosing into other people's business." Catherine interrupted. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got an early meeting to go to tomorrow, and need my rest."

"Catherine, why are you angry with me?" Vincent tried one last time, resting his gloved hand on her arm. "You know you can trust me – I'd never hurt you."

Catherine stiffened under his touch, and then pulled away. "Goodnight, Vincent." she said flatly, and then, went back inside, locking the door behind her, and pulled curtains shut over the door's windows.

Vincent sighed heavily, now more confused than ever. Catherine was very angry with him, it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure that out. But why – what had he done to her to make her treat him so badly? He hadn't said or done anything, had he? He tried to think back – no, he hadn't. At least, he didn't think so. And what was she trying to keep secret from him? She must be trying to keep _something_ a secret, for she had closed off their bond several times that day, and she obviously wasn't willing to talk her heart out tonight.

_Maybe Father will know if Catherine is all right_, Vincent thought. Suddenly, he felt ashamed at what he had said to his father that afternoon. Father meant well, he only meant for Vincent's welfare, Vincent knew that. All Father tried to do was help. Vincent could have quietly explained all that was going on, that Catherine seemed frightened and secretive, but instead Vincent shouted at his father, and almost acted violently.

Vincent hung his head in shame as he climbed down from Catherine's balcony and headed back towards the Tunnels. He had managed to avoid Father for the rest of the afternoon, and now an apology was in order. Vincent shook his head in disbelief, marveling at all the times Father had forgiven him, since he was a small child to now, from things as little as refusing to help Father dust the bookshelves to almost hurting Father or someone else. Forgiveness certainly appeared to be a gift of Father's, for which Vincent was very grateful.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

Catherine quickly turned the key to her French doors, and then shut the curtains that she usually let hang open. The last thing she wanted was Vincent to get tempted and break in, in a state of madness. That was highly unlikely, of course, but she wanted to go back to sleep in peace, without any worries.

_Catherine, what's wrong with you?_ She scolded herself. _You were over this, remember? Vincent, didn't mean it, and if he only knew, no man would ever spend the rest of his life in more shame and misery. Vincent's all right – he wasn't in his right mind then, but he is now. Everything is going to be okay – trust him._

Common sense told her that, but part of her was afraid again. She hadn't been – she had 'gotten over it' a few weeks after her and Vincent's secret 'mishap', but ever since the news of the pregnancy, she had been afraid again.

_But of what? _Catherine wondered, exchanging her day clothes for a nightgown. _Vincent will never touch me like that again, especially while he remains sane. Maybe it'd be best to just tell him – tell him of him firmly telling me that he loved me and wanted to make love; tell him of the uncertainty I felt; tell him how I couldn't feel him through our bond, maybe even tell him of the chilling feeling she still got when he touched her hand, patted her cheek, anything like that._

But she couldn't do that. He would torture himself with it, maybe slipping back into a mad state. He'd be so unspeakably ashamed and distraught, and as much pain it had caused Catherine to think about, no matter how much time had passed, she could never do that to him.

_But he doesn't frighten me! _She realized, washing the makeup off her face. _Not really! I mean, right now I'm not even frightened of him – I just want to feel safe tonight while I sleep, and I was a little afraid when I first saw him tonight, but not of what he'd do to me, but of what I'd say to him, that I'd spill the beans over being pregnant._

_Your such a jerk, Catherine, _she said, lying down in her bed, covering up with the warm covers. _You treated him almost like an animal out there. He gets treated like that enough – he doesn't need it from you. You could have just politely and truthfully told him that you had a lot on your mind and needed to think a little. It had nothing to do with him really at all, and no, there wasn't another man in her life, because it was all true. Her being afraid to talk to him had all to do with whether she was pregnant or not, not anything to do with him._

_You need to tell him about that afternoon whether your pregnant or not,_ she realized. _Okay, I'll tell him, tomorrow evening, after Dr. Peter and I verify if I'm pregnant or not. He'll come up here and I'll tell him to sit down, maybe even convince him to come inside. And then, I'll slowly explain all that had happened- no, not at my place. Too much could go wrong; it'd be better to do it at the Tunnels. So we'll go in his chamber- no, that doesn't feel right. We could talk about it tomorrow night, in the park. Yes, that feels right. I'll say, "Vincent, I have to talk to you about something very important" and he'll say "what is it". And then I'll make him promise that he won't get mad or blame himself, that he'll still treat himself like a person, and things like that. And once he promises, I'll say "well, when you lost your mind, so to speak? Well, the day before you went down into the caverns, we were reading in your chamber...'_

And thats how Catherine fell back asleep, planning the perfect explanation to Vincent. He'd be a little ashamed of course, and maybe a little hurt that she had kept it secret for so long, but he'd get over it, just like she had, or thought she had, at least.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

Vincent crept though the Tunnel halls, heading towards Father's chamber. Much was quiet in the world Below, it being nearly midnight, and Vincent was being careful not to wake the children, especially when he passed the nursery. Finally he approached Father's chamber. He stood outside the door and tried to think of what to say. He'd say-

''Vincent?" Father's voice came out from his chamber. "Vincent, is that you?"

Vincent sighed. So much for his hiding. "Yes Father," he said stepping into Father's chamber, revealing himself.

"I thought so. How, er, may I help you?" Father asked hesitantly.

Vincent hung his head, using his hands to lean against Father's desk. "Father, I came to apologize for the way I spoke and acted towards you earlier. I-I have no excuse for my actions, as there really isn't one. B-But just the same, I came to tell you I'm sorry."

Vincent was going to stop right there, so he turned to leave, but then Father stopped him.

"Vincent," he said.

Vincent turned around, waiting for his father to continue speaking.

"Vincent, I-I'm sorry too." Father told his son. "I saw that you were distressed and I assumed that it had to do with something that it obviously had nothing to do with. I-I was wrong, and I apologize too."

Vincent nodded, and again, turned to go, but Father again stopped him.

"Please stay," Father asked him. "Sit down," he motioned towards a chair on the other side of the desk.

Hesitantly, Vincent walked over to the chair and carefully sat down, his eyes on his clasped hands, which were in his lap.

"Vincent please, look at me." Father asked him.

Vincent lifted his eyes to meet his father's, but quickly let them drop back down again.

"I'm ready to listen now, Vincent." Father told Vincent earnestly. "I wasn't earlier, and I'll admit that. I thought that I had all the answers, and wasn't going to wait to let you even finish your sentences. But I'm ready now."

Vincent nodded. "Father, I-I-I'm worried about Catherine. All day, she's been full of fear, confusion, and a bit or terror, yet, within all of this, there is a bit of peace, or happiness."

"Have the two of you spoken about it?" Father asked. "Maybe she's just having some problems at work."

Vincent shook his head. "No, its not that. Sometimes, when she realizes she's having those feelings, she... I believe she closes of our bond."

"As if she doesn't want you to know what she's feeling." Father said.

"Yes, as if she doesn't want me to know." Vincent said. "So I went Above tonight, to talk to her about it. I assumed I was probably just imagining things, but she made it clear, on no uncertain terms, that she did not want to see me, or speak to me. Father, what could I possibly have said or done to make her treat me like this?"

"Well, Vincent," Father began. "First of all, I'd give her some time. Wait a few days before going Above again to see her. Maybe she has a lot on her mind."

"And what if she wants me to go Above to see her?" Vincent asked. "Maybe she was just acting that way."

"That is a possibility as well." Father said. "Vincent, sometimes women's hearts are hard to understand. Just when n you least expect it, they either turn on you, change their minds, and the like. But Catherine is a sensible girl – just follow your heart and do what you think his best."

"Yes Father," Vincent said, getting up to leave. "And thank-you."

"The pleasure is all mine, Vincent." Father said to his son. "Good-night."

"Good-night." Vincent said, kissing his father on the forehead before leaving.


	5. Chapter 5

**Authors Note: **Thanks so much! Yeah, I know what you mean about Vincent's lashing out and I'm sorry if it wasn't all that great, but I figured "why not?" After all; we all get frustrated every now and then and when we do, sometimes we say and do stupid things. I hope it wasn't too out of character. I try my best to keep the characters "in character", but, (unfortunately!) sometimes it just not that easy! Anyway, thanks so much and I'll try to keep Vincent the Vincent that we all know and love!

Catherine sat straight up in bed, awakening from her nightmare. Her alarm clock was beeping annoyingly, so Catherine quickly shut it off, trying to catch her breath, still startled from the nightmare.

She had had that nightmare on and off the first month of so after the 'mishap', but it had stopped, especially once she came to know and love Vincent again, once she was no longer afraid. But now it had come back, the events of 'the mishap' flooding back in the form of a nightmare.

Speaking of nightmares, what of the one she had been living the previous day? The events that had happened the day before came back to her.

_Shoot, _she said, glancing at the clock beside her. _I'm supposed to meet Dr. Peter in half an hour at St. Vincent's Hospital!_

Quickly, she leaped out of bed and jumped into the shower. While showering, she frowned at the white scars on her chest, the marks that would forever remind her of where Vincent had been, where he didn't know he had been, where if he knew he had been, he would never again be the same. And she thought that what he didn't know, couldn't hurt him. But she had been wrong; he was about to become a daddy and didn't even realize a baby had been conceived. Yes, there was a big problem.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"It's very interesting, Mouse." Vincent chuckled, turning Mouse's creation around in his hand. "May I ask what it is?"

"Remember when Mouse made you storm?" Mouse asked in his typically bouncy way. "Mouse made sun. Sun is bright. Made sun for Vincent."

"I understand!" Vincent said, turning over the globe in his hand, in which a bright yellow light shone out of. "It's very nice, Mouse. I like it a lot – thank you."

"Yes, everybody tells Mouse thank-you." Mouse said in that mono-tone way of his. "Have you seen Catherine?"

"What did you say?" Vincent asked the younger man, who had just asked a somewhat random question.

"Mouse misses Catherine. Doesn't come around much anymore. Since you got sick." Mouse explained.

""Yes, I see." Vincent said, setting the object aside. "Well, Catherine has been busy Above lately, but she'll come down when she has more time. Now in the meantime, let's go show this to Father, shall we?"

As Vincent and Mouse made their way to Father's chamber, Vincent only half-listened to Mouse's chatter. Mouse had had a point; Catherine used to come Below quite frequently, but this past year, the visits had been a lot less often, only once or twice a week.

_What is wrong with Catherine? _Vincent wondered for what seemed like the millionth time in the past twenty-four hours. _Maybe she's right, that it is none of my business, but then why does she keep closing off the bond? I wish she would just tell me so I could get this off my chest!_

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**_  
_

"I'm sorry I'm late, Dr. Peter!" Catherine gasped for breath as she jumped out of the cab and paid the cabbie. "I'm so sorry!"

"That's all right, Catherine," Dr. Peter said with a smile. "Come on, lets get inside."

So together, Catherine and Dr. Peter stepped inside St. Vincents Hospital. Catherine smiled, thinking of how Vincent was first found, in the back of St. Vincents Hospital, in the garbage. He was sick and weak, and was probably no bigger than a kitten, the way Father told the story.

"What are you smiling at?" Dr. Peter asked curiously.

"Oh, I was just comparing Vincent, as a baby, to a kitten." Catherine said with a laugh. "He must have been a really cute baby!"

"He was." Dr. Peter verified. "Very cute, but very sick. Um, Catherine? You understand the gravity of this situation, right? If you are pregnant with Vincent's child-"

"I know, I know." Catherine interrupted. "I know there could – and probably will be – problems. But I'm willing to face them, if-"

"If what?"

"If Vincent is willing to face them with me." Catherine finished. She leaned her head on Dr. Peter's shoulder as they continued walking.

"Your really brave, Catherine - your going to be fine." Dr. Peter assured her. "Let's go get that ultrasound done, shall we?"

_This is it, Catherine thought. Today, my life could change completely – forever. The next time I walk out of this place, I'll either officially be a mother-to-be, or not. And as nice as it would be to have a baby, I'd rather not be pregnant right now, not under these circumstances. Oh, Vincent will kill himself over having sex with me -especially when he was out of his mind - it wasn't him, it was like an alter-ego. His alter-ego did. While I don't want to throw all of the blame on him, I can't lie and say 'I took advantage of the fragile state he was in'. I felt so forced! And even though I couldn't feel our bond, I knew something was wrong. He wasn't acting like himself, like Vincent._

_He'll blame himself , and won't accept the fact that it was more my fault than anyone else's, for not listening to my common sense and realizing that something was wrong with him. He'll hate himself more than he does now for doing it to me. He's be absolutely miserable at the fact that he hurt me, and that he didn't stop when I cried out when he accidentally cut me with his claws. He'll probably retreat off on his own to be alone in his misery, and maybe even go mad again! And the baby, how will he feel about the baby? Will he love the baby? He obviously won't remember the making of it, and while I hate the memory... will we be able to love this baby at all, with all the pain attached the it?_

_And what will this ultrasound show? If I am pregnant, it'll definitely be with Vincent's child. With the ultrasound picture create any problems? What if the child ends up looking like Vincent? I wouldn't mind, but some of the features might show in the ultrasound? And Vincent, I don't know, would he b ashamed to have a child that looks like him?_

"A penny for your thoughts, Ms. Chandler?" Dr. Peter asked as they strolled through the hospital.

"I was just thinking," Catherine said wistfully. "What Vincent will think."

"Well, there's only one way to find out," Dr. Peter said, opening an office door. "And that is to find out whether your pregnant or not, and then ask him what he thinks. And in a few minutes, we'll know."

Catherine took a deep breath and stepped inside, knowing that by the time she left this room, her life could be completely changed.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**_  
_

"I just wish she'd open up and tell me!" Vincent exclaimed, pacing back and forth in Father's chamber.

"She'll tell you, Vincent, when its time, I'm sure." Father reassured his son. "But until then, you must realize that she finds it best not to tell you whats wrong right now, and that you must respect her judgment. But no matter when or if she decides to tell you, you must be prepared to accept it."

"What do you mean?" Vincent asked his father, pausing in his pacing to lean against Father's desk. "You sound like you may know what is going on – do you?"

"No, Vincent, I do not." Father told his son, standing up and going over to his bookshelves. "I have my suspicions that you do not want to hear."

"The suspicions that Catherine is in love." Vincent finished.

"Yes," Father said. "That is one of my suspicions."

"She's not." Vincent said, returning to his pacing. "If she were, she would have said something by now. And how do you explain the fear, the worry, the confusion, she's feeling?"

"The fear of what you'll do when you find out, the worry of how you'll take it, the confusion that comes along with every romance." Father reminded his son. "Very natural for her to have those feelings. And it would also explain the happiness and peace she's been feeling, and with her absence in the Tunnels of late-"

"But Catherine is _not_ in love with another man!" Vincent persisted. "I know her heart – if she were in love with another man, I would feel it."

"We can't rule that out completely, Vincent." the older man said. "It's still a possibility. Also, maybe she's just having a hard time in her life Above, and wants a bit of privacy to sort it out."

Vincent sighed. "If she'd only give me one clue, except that she doesn't want me around her." He turned to Father. "Maybe she will let you talk to her."

Father shook his head. "No, Vincent. Whatever her problem is, if she won't talk to you, she certainly won't talk to me. Just give her time – maybe she'll come around."

"And if she doesn't?" Vincent asked. "Will I be forced to spend the rest of my life wondering what I did?" Vincent's voice grew quieter. "There was once a time where I dreamed – she dreamed – that someday everything we wanted, we could have. That someday the impossible could happen, that it could be. But now," Vincent shook his head mournfully. "For the past months, she has seemed so distant – that she wants to be distant. I thought we were finally getting closer, the way were once were, until last evening, when she would barely speak to me, and when she did, she spoke as if she were full of bitterness, fear, and hate."

"Vincent, you can just give her some time – thats what I would do." Father recommended.

Vincent spoke sharply, looking at his father hard in the eyes. "And if thats the wrong thing for me to do, and if that causes me to lose Catherine forever? You could afford to lose a woman you love – you knew another one would more than likely come along? Me, I cannot take such chances."

"Whatever is supposed to happen will happen." Father replied softly, looking back into his son's eyes. He felt so sorry for the young man , the young man who found found as a small babe, abandoned in a dumpster, right outside St. Vincents Hospital, hence his name. Why he was abandoned was obvious – he looked like a monster's child, almost. He had looked crossed between a human being and a lion, or rather, a kitten at that stage. His facial features were all lion-like, except for his deep blue eyes. From the shape of his nose to a cleft lip to the re-blonde mane that hung down his back, he looked half-lion through and through. The young man had also shown a temper at a young age, not necessarily spoiled, but easily angered, and feelings easily hurt. By the time he was ten, he could have killed a man easily with his claws and unnatural strength. But Father was sure that he'd grow up to be a fine man someday, and he did. Two things were puzzling to everyone who knew Vincent though; #1, how did Vincent get to be the way he was, to look the way he was, to be abandoned? What of his parents, family, history? And #2, what caused him to go into a state of complete madness, two times in his life? Once, when he was an adolescent, he completely lost his mind for several months, and was a danger to everyone and everything. But somehow he regained his sanity, and continued to be fine until a year before this story takes place, when he went mad again, this time for a few weeks, and like the time before, he could remember nothing that took place while he was mad. Everyone referred to it as "the sickness" usually, but it usually wasn't mentioned much. No one wanted to remember it, for everyone in the Tunnels truly admired Vincent, and grieved when "the sickness" happened.

"Whatever is supposed to happen will happen." Father repeated.

"Unless fate has been intervened by this new – this new sense." Vincent said quietly.

"are you sure that this sense, as you call it, has anything to do with the way Catherine has been acting?" Father wanted to know.

"As each hour passes, I grow more and more sure." Vincent told his Father.

"Vincent, Vincent!" a young girl ran into the chamber excitedly. "Vincent, it's ten o'clock! You said you'd finish reading us _Oliver Twist_ at ten o'clock!"

"All right, Maria." Vincent said to the young girl with a smile. "Go tell the other children that I'll be there in a moment."

"Please come now!" the child begged. "Please?"

"We'll finish our discussion later, Father?" Vincent asked his father, getting up from the chair he was sitting in.

"Yes, later." Father agreed.

"All right, let's go!" Vincent said, picking up the girl and holding her high in the air. The girl giggled with glee as Vincent began teasing her about dropping her as they left Father's chamber.

Father smiled. _Vincent, you are such a wonderful son_, he thought with pride. _Just wonderful, and I pity the people who left you to die. It's been a struggle, but a struggle well worth it. You are a blessing to all of us, a hard worker, a tender and loving heart, and you are so good with the children. And now, I can't imagine the past thirty-some years without you._


	6. Chapter 6

_**Authors note: From here on out, my chapters are going to be ultra-long, 4,000 words a chapter at least. Sorry if this is any inconvenience to anyone but I'm a type-aholic. Remember, I don't own anyone in this chapter (except for the cabbie, lol!) and I don't own anyone in this whole story, unless otherwise noted. All characters belong to Ron Koslow and CBS, respectfully. Thank you for all the reviews – they are very encouraging and helpful!**_

**Chapter 6**

"Are you sure you don't want me to go with you?" Dr. Peter checked with Catherine.

Tearfully, but surely, Catherine nodded. "I-I think I'll be all right. This is something I need to do alone."

"You won't be alone for long." Dr. Peter reminded her. "After Vincent and Father hear the whole story, you'll never feel alone again. They'll take care of you, I'm sure."

"Yes, well, thanks for everything." Catherine said, giving Dr. Peter a big hug.

"Catherine, you know I'm ready to help, no matter what, right?"

Catherine nodded. "I do now."

He gave her a reassuring kiss on the forehead. "You remember that then." he tapped Catherine's chin up. "hey, come on, it won't be that bad. Jacob Wells and Vincent, they're good men. Don't worry about anything, all right?"

Again, Catherine nodded. "It's funny, you know?" she said. "I'm afraid to tell them, but I'm not sure why. I know they wouldn't turn me out in the streets or anything and-and that they'd believe my story, its just that, well, I'm afraid for Vincent, I guess. Afraid of what he'll think, afraid of what he'll do to himself, to others."

"Vincent has a good head on his shoulders." Dr. Peter reminded Catherine. "Sometimes he does irrational things, or takes his anger out the wrong way, but he always comes around, just like every one of us, doesn't he?"

"He does." Catherine agreed, taking a shaky breath. "Well, goodbye."

"For now." Dr. Peter finished. "Goodbye for now."

Catherine turned and got into the cab, which drove away as soon as she had her seat, and then she buried her head in her hands, nervously rehearsing what she had planned to tell Vincent, but for some reason, she couldn't concentrate – her mind kept drifting back to the small, but alive being in her womb – her child. Her child, as well as Vincent's.

_How will Father take it?_ Catherine thought nervously. _Will he be mad at me, for doing it even though I knew we shouldn't? Will he be mad at himself for not foreseeing it? Will he be mad at Vincent for _doing it_ in the first place? Please be mad at me, Father – don't blame Vincent! Blame his alter-ego, but not him! Please!_

Dr. Peter had offered to go down to the Tunnels with her, to help explain, but Catherine politely declined. This was something she needed to tell Vincent, without any help.

"Where to, lady?" the cabbie asked her, spitting out the window. The cab smelled of tobacco and cigarette smoke, but Catherine barely noticed.

Catherine gave the man her address, so within minutes, she was home, the New York City traffic being unusually light.

_Everything is unusual today, _Catherine thought. _For once, I'd like my life to be somewhat normal. Then again, if my life was normal, as in 'typical', I'd probably have been pregnant at seventeen. All right, I wish my life was _almost _typical._

Immediately she went to the basement of the apartment and climbed down a ladder, leading towards to the Tunnels. She had been down there so many times that she knew exactly where to go to find the main area of the Tunnels, where most all the Tunnel people lived.

_Okay, I'll start off, 'Vincent, may I speak to you alone, please?' And he'll say, 'sure – here's a good place to talk'. And then we'll go to the place and I'll say, 'Vincent, there is something I'd like to speak to you about – you realize that when you 'go mad', you aren't yourself, right?' _Catherine kept planning just to keep herself sane as she walked along the familiar paths, finally winding up outside Vincent's chamber.

Taking a deep breath, ignoring the butterflies in her stomach, she knocked of the rock of the wall next to the entrance of Vincent's.

"Vincent," she called through the curtained doorway. "Vincent, its Catherine – can I come in?"

"He's in Father's chamber." a child told her as he dashed by.

"T-Thank you!" Catherine called back. _Great, exactly what I need. Now I'll have to pull him away from Father._

She went over to Father's chamber, the curtain of the door pulled aside, so she just stepped in. "Uh, Vincent? May I-May I talk to you for a moment?"

Vincent turned around from his chair facing Father to face her. "Catherine," he said with surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"I-Is there a problem with me being here?" she asked uncertainly.

"no, no." Vincent said, standing up and motioning for her to come in. "Come in, come in."

Catherine took a step inside. "Uh, Vincent, I need to talk to you – alone?" she eyed Father.

Father nodded. "All right, Vincent – we'll finish later. Catherine," Father hesitated. "Is there a problem?"

Catherine nodded, her eyes welling up with tears. "I-I-I think there is." _You can't wait, Catherine_, she told herself. _You might as well get it out now, whether Father is in the room or not_.

Vincent started towards Catherine. "Catherine, are you all right?" he asked concernedly.

She shook her head. "No, no I'm not. I-I'm-I'm," she took a deep breath. "I'm pregnant."

_That didn't happen like it was supposed to_, Catherine scolded herself.

"What?" Vincent and Father asked simultaneously.

"I'm pregnant." Catherine repeated.

The two men were silent for a moment, dumbfounded, but finally Father spoke up.

"Well," Father said hesitantly. "It's for the best that you find love Above, Catherine. I-I think I speak for both of us when I say 'congratulations'."

Catherine shook her head, tears streaming down her face. "No! I-I mean, you don't understand! It isn't anybody Above's baby – it's..." she looked at Vincent in the eyes. "It's Vincent's."

Vincent looked astonished. "Catherine_, how_?"

"How, indeed." Father said crossly, looking at both Catherine and Vincent. "Somebody better tell me whats going on here."

"I-I don't know." Vincent said. He crossed over to Catherine, who was crying. "Catherine, sit down." he helped her sit down in a chair. "Tell me, what's wrong?"

Catherine took a shaky breath. "Last year, be-before you had your sickness – it was the day before Father realized it, before any of us did. We – We were in your chamber, Vincent, reading. I-I don't remember what we were reading – it was _Romeo and Juliet_, or _Macbeth,_ or maybe it was_ Hamlet_-"

"And, what happened?" Father persisted, looking angrier by the minute.

"Well, Vincent put down the book and started staring at me," Catherine continued. "After I asked him, he told me what he wanted, and that he wanted it then and there. I-I couldn't feel him through the bond, and didn't think that it seemed like Vincent at all. I mean, I was happy, but scared, and kind of subconsciously thought that I should run and find Father, but I didn't want to turn him down! And now, Dr. Peter had verified that, I'm pregnant."

Vincent stared at Catherine, the pain showing clearly through his eyes. "I have no recollection of that." he said hoarsely.

"I know." Catherine said, gently reaching out to touch his hand.

Quickly, Vincent pulled away and ran out of Father's chamber.

"Vincent!" Catherine cried out. "Vincent, come back! Please don't be mad at me! Vincent, come back!"

"Ssh, ssh" Father quieted her, hugging the young woman close and stroking her hair. "Ssh, it'll be all right. Ssh"

"Don't be mad at Vincent!" Catherine begged. "He didn't mean to! Blame me!"

"No, no." Father said soothingly. "It's not either of your faults. Ssh, I'm not angry. Just calm down. Ssh." 

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**_  
_

Vincent ran blindly through the Tunnels and into his chamber. _What did you do?_ He thought angrily, pulling at his hair. _What did you do to Catherine? No wonder she's been so upset lately! You animal! Why did you do that, why?_

Suddenly Catherine slipped into his chamber. "Hello, Vincent." she said quietly.

"Catherine, please go." Vincent heaved.

"No." she said gently, but firmly.

"Catherine, I don't want you to see me like this!" he stated. "Now, please go!"

She shook her head, her eyes full of tears. "No, Vincent. We need to talk – now."

"There is nothing to talk about."

"Yes, there is." Catherine insisted, coming up closer to him. "Vincent, its not your fault."

"Yes it is." he growled. "Now please, go."

"Vincent, I'm more than happy to carry your child!" Catherine told him pleadingly.

"How could you be?" Vincent asked her, looking at her earnestly in the eyes. "Catherine, look at me. There is a part of me thats not – human. I can't even begin to tell you all that I want and need to tell you. The words, to speak them out loud..."

"Then let's write letters." Catherine suggested. "I'll go first."

"Dearest Vincent," Catherine started after a moments hesitation. "Please do _not_ blame yourself for the child! I was bound to start carrying your child sooner or later." she glanced at him with a mischievous smile. "I love you. I love the way you sound. I love the way you are strong for the entire Tunnel family, physically and emotionally. I love the way you read out loud, the way you are with children. I love to watch you at work, I love to watch you at play. And yes, I love the way you look." she gave him a sideways glance. "Your eyes, especially. Your eyes are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. So filled with love, warmth, knowledge, strength. And your hands, so strong and yet gentle. You are so tall and strong – you'd never let anything happen to anyone you love, whether its me, Father, a child... and your heart is the most beautiful thing of all. It has all your good qualities combined. No, I don't see an animal in there. I see a man, a unique man, not because of how he looks, but he's unique in the way he loves, care, and holds his family together, no matter what the circumstances. And it just so happens," she smiled. "he's the most handsome man that ever existed. All my love forever, Catherine."

Vincent was silent for a moment, soaking up her loving words, and then spoke. "Catherine, I feel your love, but-"

She put a finger to his lips. "Now you reply – I'll start it for you; Dear Catherine, thank you for..."

"Dear Catherine," Vincent picked up. "Thank you for all the compliments you gave me, and for all the faith you have in me. And I'd hate to say all of it is in vain, but some of it is. I'm not entirely man, no matter what you think. I'm not normal."

"I love you." he continued after taking a deep breath. "Your courage, your beauty, your strength. You make up a part of me that – that I didn't know was missing."

she smiled. "Shall I reply?"

Vincent turned away. "Catherine, this cannot happen! Don't you realize what could happen?"

"Well, if its a boy, it might be fortunate enough to wind up half as handsome as his father." Catherine said. "And if its a girl, she'll always feel safe, warm and protected. She'd be a 'Daddy's Little Girl', I'm sure of it."

Vincent shook his head, his mane flying about. "No, Catherine, no!" he began to shout. "No! This cannot happen!"

"Vincent," Catherine said pleadingly. "Please don't be mad at me! Yes, you don't remember conception, and yes, I didn't enjoy as much as I would have, and yes, I'm pregnant with your child." she took a shaky breath. "But Vincent – I don't care. I-I'm proud to carry your child. The child will-"

"The child!" Vincent said indignantly, punctuating his shout by hitting his table. "The child is only half of the concern! What about you, and me, and Father, and-and the whole world Below?"

Catherine took another shaky breath. "Please, Vincent, please don't be angry at me – I beg you. I-"

"Why should I be angry with you?" Vincent asked her, still having a raised, but yet hushed voice. "It's me I'm angry at!"

"Being angry at yourself hurts me as if you were angry at me." Catherine told him. "And you have no reason to be angry at yourself."

"I shouldn't have said anything about wanting anything!" Vincent exclaimed. "I should have not said a thing!"

"You were going out of your mind, Vincent; you couldn't hardly control what you were saying – you were just speaking the truth, what you felt..."

"And I'm ashamed for having felt that way – to have the thoughts I have!" Vincent admitted, still angry.

"There's no sin in affection!" Catherine firmly told Vincent.

"Affection? I'm afraid to say that these feeling surpass affection." Vincent told her.

"Love then?" Catherine asked. "Surely there's no sin in loving?"

"But the thoughts I think – the feeling I have – the urges I get when I-" Vincent gave her a sideways glance and then came rushing towards her in alarm. "I-I didn't hurt you, did I?"

Catherine smiled faintly. "Nothing a little hydrogen peroxide couldn't fix." she said. "And any thoughts, feelings, or urges you have, are all natural, Vincent, I assure you."

"Not mine." Vincent muttered.

"Vincent," Catherine gently pulled on his hand, gesturing for his to sit beside her on his bed, which he did. "Vincent, tell me those thoughts."

"No, no!" Vincent argued, starting to get back up from the bed. "I cannot!"

"Please, Vincent!" Catherine begged, pulling him back down onto the bed. "Please tell me! Don't be ashamed, please – tell me."

Vincent took a deep breath. "Catherine, they aren't thoughts of love. They're thoughts of hurt – violence. Sometimes I just want to-"

"And its completely natural." Catherine followed up. "Especially for the male." she added with a smile. "Oh Vincent, don't feel bad! Don't be ashamed of any thoughts, feelings, that you might have."

Vincent hung his head. "But Catherine-"

"Ssh." She hushed him. "Vincent, how do I really feel about this – you can feel what I feel, so tell me. Am I distressed over your thoughts? Worried by them in the slightest? No! Quite the contrary, I'm pleased."

"Pleased?" Vincent asked in shock. "How could you be pleased with such vile- such vile thoughts?"

"Because they aren't vile." Catherine returned. "Please, Vincent – trust me on this."

Vincent turned away. "I'm still so ashamed."

"I have regrets too, Vincent." Catherine told him earnestly. "I regret that I didn't go tell Father what you had done, that you obviously weren't thinking straight. I just went along with what you wanted because, well, thats what _I_ wanted too."

Vincent looked confused. "You aren't angry?"

Catherine shook her head. "No, Vincent; I'm not angry, I'm not hurt, and I'm not afraid of you. The only feelings I have for you is love and happiness, which grows more and more so every time I see you. And now, another has been added to the love and happiness – our baby."

Vincent looked dumbfounded for a moment before he spoke. "Catherine, are you sure its _our_ baby?"

Catherine nodded. "I'm one hundred and one percent sure."

Vincent sighed. 'And what are we going to do about _that_?"

"Nothing." Catherine said simply, getting up from her seat on the edge of Vincent's bed. "We're going to do absolutely nothing about it. We're just going to enjoy ourselves until the day comes, and then we'll decide what to do."

Vincent shook his head. "Catherine, we can hardly afford to do that. This baby could be-"

"It could take after its daddy, true." Catherine agreed. "But, we can hardly do anything about it, so why worry?"

"Will the baby live Above or Below?"

"Vincent," Catherine sighed. "We'll have to discuss it with Father. For now, lets not worry about it."

_Don't worry about it_, Vincent told himself. _How am I not supposed to worry about it? I'm going to be a father and she tells me not to worry? Me, of all fathers-to-be, should be worried! How could I condemn a child to a life of hiding, loneliness?_

"If you wish, Catherine," Vincent sighed reluctantly.

Catherine took Vincent's hand. "Look, I know we've got a lot to be worried about, but lets not. Worrying never helped anybody."

Vincent smiled a bit. "Well, I suppose now would be a good time to talk to Father."

Catherine laughed. "We might have to 'write' a lot of 'letters' to get him to understand!" 

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**_  
_

Catherine and Vincent stepped into Father's chamber together, where Father was waiting, looking a little irritated and worried.

"Well, someone explain here," Father said. "Vincent, I'm waiting."

"Father," Vincent said, nearing his adoptive father. "Father, Catherine is pregnant."

"Yes, yes." Father said. "But what I'm interested in is _how_ and _what_ the two of you plan to do about it."

"Father, you promised you wouldn't get angry." Catherine reminded him.

"Who's angry?" Father exclaimed. And then, calming down a little, he spoke again. "Can someone explain how Catherine could _possibly_ be pregnant with _Vincent's_ child?"

Catherine looked at Vincent to explain, so Vincent took a deep breath to begin. "According to Catherine, last year, the day before anyone was aware of the sickness, apparently her and I were in my chamber,r doing a bit of reading. I wasn't in my right mind then, only she didn't know, of course, and-"

"The baby was conceived that day." Catherine said softly. "Please don't be angry, Father! Vincent begged and I caved in. If you are to be angry, please be angry at me. I had a feeling something wasn't quite right, but I ignored it and-"

"I have no recollection of it, as I don't have any recollection of the time of my sickness." Vincent attempted to explain. "Catherine didn't want to bring it up, for fear I'd-"

"I knew he'd be ashamed." Catherine broke in. "I thought what he didn't know couldn't hurt him, but-"

Father held up his hand, signaling them both to stop. "Please, please, children – I understand what you are saying." he gave Vincent a big hug, and Catherine a more careful one, her condition being more delicate. "And no, I'm not angry. Concerned, but not angry." he turned to Catherine. "Uh, Catherine, you know that with this pregnancy, as with every pregnancy, there _are_ risks. But this pregnancy may be... different than a normal pregnancy."

Catherine nodded, but before she could reply, Vincent broke in.

"Father," he said. "Catherine has had a long exhausting week. Why don't we discuss the risks and details another day, and let Catherine g o home to rest?"

Father nodded, looking at Catherine. "Yes, Catherine, that would be the best."

Vincent took her arm. "I'll walk you home."

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV  
**

"So whether the child lives Above or not will depend on his or her appearance?" Catherine wrinkled her nose in distaste. "I don't think so – the baby should live Below."

"But you wouldn't be here to take care of it." Vincent reminded her.

It was two days later, and Catherine was Below again, discussing her pregnancy with Father and Vincent, in Father's chamber. It seemed like to best place to discuss such matters.

"I could move down here," Catherine said, her eyes widening at the idea. "I could still go to work and all that, but at night when I come home, I could go home to here."

Father shook his head. "I think that's hardly appropriate."

"Father," Vincent said. "I think we're past 'appropriate' now." he looked over at Catherine. "and I, agree. The child would fare better Below, regardless of appearance."

Father sighed. "And if the baby did look different, how would Catherine explain the sudden disappearance of her baby to her colleagues at work?"

"I could say that the baby lives with his or her father." Catherine thought out loud. "That would be true."

"She could make it clear that someone has agreed to adopt the baby." Vincent suggested.

"I suppose a third trimester abortion is illegal." Father said. "So that can't be your excuse."

Catherine shook her head. "Besides, no one who knows me well would believe it – I love children. I'd sooner quit my job and move down here forever." she looked at Vincent with hopeful eyes.

Vincent shook his head. "I'm sorry Catherine, but the good that you are doing Above..."

Catherine nodded. "I understand. But what can we do?"

Father stood up from his place at his desk. "Well, we'll have to think of something. It will require a lot of thought. In the meantime, Catherine-"

Mouse rushed into Father's chamber, breathlessly. "Vincent! Mouse made new gizmo! Help light candles. Work better than good. Better than best."

Vincent nodded, smiling at his young friend. "All right, Mouse; I'll be there in a moment. You go along and I'll be there."

Mouse nodded and ran from the room. Father rolled his eyes, annoyed.

"As I was saying, before Mouse made his 'new gizmo' announcement, Catherine, I think it would be for the best if you keep quiet about your being," in spite of being a doctor, he cleared his throat uncomfortably. "you being with child, to be quiet about it Above. We don't want word getting out until we know what we will do."

Catherine nodded, with Vincent replying. "We have both agreed that it must kept silent Above."

"My friends, Joe, and Jenny, and all of my relatives will be all over me, begging to meet 'my man'." Catherine said, her eyes twinkling.

"Well, they certainly can't do that." Father muttered.

Vincent turned to Catherine. "Would you care to go looking at a 'new gizmo' with me?"

Laughing, Catherine accepted, taking Vincent's arm and walking out of the chamber with him. Father shook his head, half pleased in the happiness Vincent found in the woman, and half worried about his son, knowing that even though Catherine was more than likely pregnant with Vincent's child, his thoughts on "it cannot be" were still true.

_Catherine is a woman from Above, _Father thought, somewhat bitterly, though not at Catherine, but at the world Above. _And the world Above is always changing. New people, new buildings, new streets, new families – and new love lives. What would happen to my son's heart if, perchance, Catherine fell in love with another man? She can only remain happy with Vincent for so long. And Vincent, who's heart revolves around Catherine – his heart will be broken. He would never be the same again, never content to be himself, living where he does. He'd torture himself, that he's not all human, that something is missing or added, making him unique. And if it doesn't cause him to eventually go mad... he'll die._

_Catherine loves Vincent. She'd never hurt him on purpose. Perhaps I should have a talk with her privately. Tell her that if its not Vincent's child, it all right for her to tell me, that lying about it doesn't do anyone any good. If she _does _have a lover, Above, the sooner we know, the better. I don't doubt her love for Vincent, but to be sure would be nice._

_Perhaps I should try to talk to Vincent again, as well. Warn him that it may not be his child, whether Catherine is in love with someone else or not. Remind him that even though he and Catherine did make love that once, that they may never do it again. It's too dangerous. While I talk to Catherine, I must discuss her experience, whether Vincent hurt her or not. Not that he would mean to, but accidentally, it could easily happen. With his touch, he could rip her apart. His 'fangs', in one kiss, could push right through her skin._

Father sighed. He had raised two children, both boys. Devin his by blood, Vincent his through fate. While Devin had been the most mischievous out of the two boys, the most challenging to raise as a child, Vincent was forever a struggle for Father. Although he was a grown man, he still needed taken care of to a degree. Though he could tear anyone apart effortlessly, he was never safe. And though he was nearly forty, he still needed more guidance, and he couldn't live away from home, ever. It some ways, Vincent was extremely naïve, living so sheltered and protected his entire life, away from the rest of the world. But in other ways, he understood more about life than most other people. He understood loss, rejection, pain, abandonment, grief, anger, and a broken heart, as well as gain, acceptance, love, happiness, and fulfillment.

Father sighed and shook his head. As much as he loved his son, as happy as he was for his son, how excited Father felt himself of the soon-to-come arrival of his first grandchild, he still felt unsure, and nervous. The next eight to nine months were going to be anything but pretty. 

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**_  
_

"Hello Catherine, Vincent." Mary greeted the two lovers as they passed the nursery on the way out of Mouse's chamber.

"Hello Mary." The two returned together.

Mary clasped Catherine's hands. "I'm so happy for you, both of you."

Catherine was puzzled. "How did you find out?"

Vincent and Mary both laughed. "Word travels fast down here." Mary explained in between chuckles. "Thanks to Pascal and his pipes."

Catherine laughed once she understood. "So how would one keep a secret down here?"

Mary smiled mischievously. "Well, you two did a good job of it."

Catherine and Vincent exchanged glances. "Well..." Catherine's voice trailed off.

Mary looked confused for a moment. "I suppose that it isn't any of my business."

"It's complicated." Vincent told her gently. "I do not mind if you have any of the details – you've been like a mother to me. But please ask Father; I'm afraid I don't have many of the details."

Mary nodded, still confused. "Well, the best of luck to both of you." she again clasped Catherine's hands. "And remember, if you need anything – anything at all, just let me know. We're eager to help you in anyway we can."

"I appreciate it." Catherine said in return, smiling at the older woman. "And thank you so much."

As Vincent and Catherine walked on, they were quiet for several minutes. Finally though, Vincent broke the silence.

"Catherine, I'm being honest with you – I have no memory of that afternoon."

"It's all right." Catherine soothed him. "I've known that ever since 'the sickness'."

"Catherine, please be honest with me." Vincent pleaded, his eyes begging. "Did I hurt you?'

Catherine hesitated before answering, her hesitation nearly killing Vincent. "Well, seriously, no, you did not."

Vincent's eyes begged for elaboration, so she went into more detail. "You accidentally clawed up my chest a bit, but nothing deep. Peroxide healed it without infection."

Vincent's eyes dropped to the ground in shame. "Scars?" he asked quietly.

Catherine nodded, her eyes filling up with tears of sympathy for the man she loved. "Not deep ones – they are very light. I've found that a good cocoa butter heals blends scars well. It makes them almost invisible, in fact."

"Catherine," Vincent started, his voice hoarse. "How could you love me like you do? You deserve... better."

"I don't deserve what I've got." Catherine told him with confidence. "Not only does one of the greatest men alive love me, but I'm also carrying his child. I _don't_ deserve it."

"How could you call me that?" Vincent asked.

"Easily." Catherine answered, reaching out to give Vincent an affectionate squeeze on the arm. "I've never met a man finer, more concerned for his family and friends, never more intelligent and full of love, never -" she stopped. "Didn't we go over this two days ago?"

Despite his mood, Vincent couldn't help but chuckle. "We had better get you back Above. Your starting work again tomorrow?"

Catherine nodded. "I'm not quite sure how I'll be able to not tell everyone about being pregnant; I'm so excited!"

Vincent looked at her, astonished. "Your _excited_?"

Again, Catherine nodded. "Well, of course I am! We're going to have a baby, Vincent – doesn't that make _you_ excited?'

Vincent let out a sigh. "Not as much excited as worried." he admitted.

"It will be okay." Catherine assured him. "I don't care what the baby _looks _like."

"Catherine, it is not just the appearance." Vincent tried to explain. "It's pains me to think that you could give birth to something that's not- not completely human."

Catherine took a deep breath. "We don't know anything about your past, Vincent – I'll bet your 100 human."

And even if not," she took his hand as the approached the Tunnel entrance under her apartment. "Even if not, I'll love you anyways."

Vincent shook his head. "How could I be held responsible for condemning a child to having a life like this?"

"I asked you not to worry about it." Catherine told Vincent lovingly. "There's nothing we can do to change this baby's DNA – worrying doesn't help."

Catherine began ascending up the ladder, but Vincent stopped her. "We will find you a different way to get Below soon." Vincent told her. "You mustn't be climbing ladders in yours condition."

Catherine laughed. "All right. Love you, see you later." she called to Vincent as she left.

Once she was gone, Vincent leaned against the wall and took deep breaths, amazed at how this woman made him feel, how overwhelmingly calm she was about being pregnant with _Vincent's_ child. It was just stunning, absolutely amazing.

_Catherine insists that the child live Below. _Vincent thought as he slowly made his way towards his chamber. _Though is that the best thing for it? Assuming it looks normal, maybe it should live Below by day, and Above by night, when Catherine is able to care for it. Even if it _does_ look like me, maybe it can go Above at night. No one else Above will notice Catherine's carrying a bundle up from the basement._

_Will it be a female or male? _Vincent continued to wonder as he entered his chamber. _What will its name be? What will its personality be like? What will it look like?_

Vincent took a deep breath. _How can I tell Catherine my true concerns? That the baby could have the sickness, that it could harm her. Paracelsus had once said that I clawed by way out of my mother's womb. _Vincent cringed at the thought. _Father had assured me that was impossible, but what if its not? What if Catherine's life is at stake?_

"Vincent?" he heard his father's voice outside his chamber. "May I come in?"

"Yes Father." Vincent told him.

Father stepped in. "Vincent, may I talk to you?"

Vincent held his arms out. "What about?"

"About Catherine."

Vincent let out his breath. "What about Catherine, Father?"

"Vincent," Father began slowly. "I love you, and I don't want you to be hurt. Catherine-"

"Father-" Vincent interrupted.

"No, let me speak." Father continued. "Catherine may someday find love somewhere Above. The way she is forced to live her love with you won't last. I just wanted to warn you of that, before the inevitable happens, whether in two weeks or twenty years. I-I don't want to see your heart broken. I've even come to believe that she loves you, but do you really think she could endure a life like this for very long? Half her life has to be lived in secret. The only place the two of you can move freely is here. We have no luxuries here, and it certainly isn't an easy journey from her world to ours. What happens to you when she can't take it anymore?"

Vincent paused before he spoke. "Father, Catherine and I have something special, and I hardly believe that it will ever cease to show itself. However, I accept your warning, and thank you for it."

Father nodded. "It's just that, if it did happen... I'd be afraid to lose you Vincent." he cleared his throat, trying to break up the awkward silence.

Vincent put his hand on his Father's shoulder and smiled. "You needn't worry, Father."

"I hope not." Father sighed, leaving his son's chamber. "I hope not."


	7. Chapter 7

7  
**Authors Note: **_**Autism Spectrum Disorder**_** or **_**Aspergers**_** is a real disorder, not to be confused with Downs Syndrome or any type of retardation. People with autism often have trouble socially, and may feel uncomfortable in large groups. Also, their senses may be enhanced, hearing sounds and tasting tastes we don't, and things such as that. These people usually possess a special talent, such as art, math, or memorization skills. In the movie **_**Rain Man**_**, the lead character is autistic, so that may give you a general overview on the disorder. I just wanted to let you know, so you won't get confused later on in the story! Also, if you find me using a lot of Jewish references, blame it on the production of **_**Fiddler on the Roof **_**I'm in. **_**Mazeltov **_**means 'congratulations'. ****Oh yes, and sorry if the story seems to be taking forever. I'm having fun putting in all the aspects I could possibly imagine for this story – let me know what factors you like and don't like! And now, on with the story!**

"Well, aren't you going to say something?" Catherine asked her stunned boss, Joe Maxwell, two weeks later.

"_Mazeltov,_ Cathy!" Joe said. "When do I get to meet him?"

Catherine smiled and turned around, pausing in her way out of his office. "You don't." And then she left to go to her own desk.

"'You don't'." Joe mimicked her. "She just pops in and says 'Hey Joe, I'm pregnant but you can't meet him' – you don't just waltz in here and tell Joe who he can and cannot meet!"

He picked up a large stack of folders and went over to Catherine's desk. "Hey, Radcliffe, why is the man of yours so mysterious? Why can't I meet him?"

Catherine searched for the words to say. "Joe, I don't want to hurt your feelings or anything, but you can't. It's... complicated."

Joe nodded, smiling. "You like complicated things, don't you Radcliffe?" he dropped the pile of folders on her desk. "Then you won't mind taking care of these for me, will you?" he made his way back towards his office.

"Is this punishing me for not letting you meet him?" Catherine asked Joe, a little ticked off.

Joe just held up his hands in defensive as he went into his office.

Catherine rolled her eyes at her boss' childish ways as she opened the folders and began going through them. 

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**_  
_

"Michael, William, Jonathan, Kenneth, Joseph, Kyle, Edward, James, Peter, Matthew," Vincent ticked off baby names in his head as he sat at the kitchen table.

"How do you know its a boy?" Jamie asked Vincent, slyly.

Vincent sighed as he began going through girl names. "Sara, Mariah, Juliet, Danielle, Maria, Ellie, Sophie, Kate, Isabella,-"

"What makes you think its a girl?" Jamie asked with a teasing grin.

Vincent looked at her, frustrated. "Catherine asked me to come up with the perfect name for the baby – how am I supposed to do that?"

"Well, what names do you like?" Jamie asked him.

Vincent shook his head. "I told Catherine to come up with the name. It seems that should be the mother's job anyway."

"What do you mean?" Jame wanted to know.

"Well," Vincent said. "The woman has more... motherly responsibilities towards the child. The least the father could let her do is pick out a name."

"Not to mention that she has to go through nine months of pregnancy, give or take, and go through childbirth pains." Jamie said.

Vincent blushed. Luckily, not many people were able to notice when he blushed, otherwise they'd be seeing him do it a lot lately. Pregnancy and childbirth was _not_ something Vincent was used to openly discussing.

"If its a boy, you could name is Charles Jacob, or Jacob Charles," Jamie suggested. "After Father and Catherine's father."

"And if its a girl, name it after Catherine's mother and the name the two of you like best." William said, coming into the kitchen to start a pot of soup.

Vincent shook his head. "The name has to be perfect."

"What do you mean by 'perfect'?" Jamie wanted to know.

"In _A Tale of Two Cities_, the lead female character is named Lucy. That name suits the character so well." Vincent attempted to explain. "And can you imagine _Oliver Twist_ if Dickens had given Oliver any different name?"

William shook his head. "I don't follow."

Vincent sighed as he again tried to explain to his friends. "The name must be perfect. A name that fits the person's personality and other features. It needs significance, a pull. A name the child will not mind having for the rest of its life. Once you give the child a name, there is no going back."

"Well, you have until the naming ceremony." Jamie reminded Vincent. "You have plenty of time to come up with a name. Besides, the names some people have are far worse than you could ever name a child, Vincent. Take the story of _Fiddler on the Roof_; the man named his five daughters Tzseitel, Hodel, Chava, Shprintze, and Bielke. And have you ever heard the joke about Ima and Ura Hogg?"

Vincent couldn't help but chuckle. "Thank-you Jamie." he said, getting up from his chair and heading towards his chamber. Maybe Catherine was right – all he needed to do was relax. 

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**_  
_

"The baby will live Below," Catherine told Dr. Peter. "I'll either take the baby home with me at night or take up residency in the Tunnels – its not decided yet."

"Your still going to continue work at the District Attorney's Office?" Dr.  
Peter asked, his eyebrows furrowing.

Catherine nodded. "Vincent and I don't see any reason for me to quit. I'm going to take three or four weeks off before the expected due date, of course, but a week or so after the birth, I expect to be in full swing again."

The two were in Dr. Peter's office, discussing Catherine's pregnancy. Dr. Peter was giving her a prenatal checkup.

"If you take up residency in the Tunnels, how will you continue your work?" Dr. Peter asked. "Naturally you have to have an address, and you can't just say 'right under your feet, third chamber to your left'."

Catherine giggled at Dr. Peter's 'address'. "Well, I _could_, but I don't think the Tunnel dwellers would appreciate that too much. No, if I do move down Below, I'll still have my apartment Above."

"I'm sure Jacob has strong objections to you moving Below?" Dr. Peter assumed.

Catherine nodded. "I don't understand it, and I don't think- I know Vincent doesn't understand it either. I mean, there's not much more that could go on between us." she blushed slightly.

Dr. Peter chuckled. "Ah, Jacob's an old softie; you'll find that out sooner or later. Catherine, this baby will be delivered Below, correct?"

"Absolutely." Catherine said. "That's the whole reason we're having all of these problems, because the baby could share some certain... traits with its father that aren't deemed acceptable Above. I was hoping," Catherine added with a smile. "That you could assist in the delivery. You know, birth two generations?"

"It would be my pleasure to be the first one to hold your child, naked and screaming, just like I did its mother." Dr. Peter agreed, teasing the younger woman. "Do you have any more questions?"

Catherine shook her head 'no'. "I don't think so." she stood up, exiting the office with Dr. Peter.

"Have you decided on a name for the baby yet?" Dr. Peter asked Catherine as they walked down the halls.

"No; its too early for that." Catherine said. "Besides, I asked Vincent to pick it out."

"Vincent?" Dr. Peter seemed genuinely surprised. "Why?"

"Well, I want him to feel more involved and at ease with this whole pregnancy deal." Catherine explained. "He doesn't remember conception, and his worried to death about me, and the child. Maybe choosing a name will help him."

"It may." Dr. Peter approved. "Well, you and the baby both seem to be perfectly healthy. I don't see any reason to worry about you or the baby. "

"Vincent is a little more apprehensive over psychical appearance and personality, I believe." Catherine told Dr. Peter. "And while I understand that it is a matter to be concerned with..." she sighed. " Maybe its the same jitters I have – first-time parent jitters."

"No one knows a thing about this baby." Dr. Peter told Catherine. "I think Vincent is in hopes that the baby has a better childhood than Vincent was able to."

"Understood." Catherine said.

"I suppose I'll see you later." Dr. Peter said.

Catherine gave the older man an loving kiss on his wrinkled cheek. "Good-bye, Dr. Peter – see you soon!" And with that, she went out-of-doors, and began walking down the sidewalk.

While walking she spotted a store specializing in baby clothes. Catherine couldn't help but smile.

_I can' wait for this baby! _She thought excitedly. _Vincent will make such a good father – oops, I suppose the baby can't call Vincent 'Father'. That would get a little confusing after awhile! And I suppose the baby will call Father 'Grandfather', just to spare some confusing situations. Oh yes, this will be fun!_

A woman walked passed Catherine, holding a infant baby. Across the street, one little boy and one little girl were crossing the street, hands joined with the mother's. A young couple passed Catherine, and she was sure that the woman was pregnant, but trying to hide it.

Catherine just smiled. For awhile, she had felt happy with Stephen and Tom, but with Vincent, she couldn't even find the words to say how happy she was. 

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**_  
_

Vincent laid in bed, thinking. How on earth was he going to be a father? While Above, he could barely keep himself from being killed, and while Below, he was safe, and could maybe take care of a child better, but how on earth was he supposed to raise a child that spent half of its life Above and the other half in a secret? Of course, he wouldn't be the only parent – Catherine would mother the child, and with Mary and all the children Below that were more than willing to help, the child would be well taken care of.

_But the baby needs a father, regardless of how well its taken care for,_ Vincent reasoned. _That's such a responsibility! Everything I do, the child will watch, and more than likely, mimic those words and actions. What happens if I go into a state of madness again, or get caught Above again? Then the child wouldn't have a father. And some children who don't have fathers..._

Vincent shuddered at the thought. He knew that even the best brought-up children could have serious problems growing up if they were missing a parent, especially a parent of their same gender.

_I wonder if the baby will be a boy or a girl? _Vincent couldn't help but wonder. _A son would be excellent, of course, to play with, to work with. Or a girl, a sweet little angel, would be wonderful too. What if Catherine has twins – a boy _and_ a girl?_ Vincent shook his head, trying to clear the thought from his mind. No matter how much he was willing to be a father, twins did _not_ seem to be the best things to start out with.

_I wonder how Catherine's friends and other people at her work are taking the news? _Vincent wondered. _Catherine isn't worried, upset, or anything of the kind, so they must be taking the news well. But how will her friends take it when Catherine tells them that they cannot meet me? That may ruin some friendships – they may feel that she is trying to hide me, which she is of course, but they wouldn't understand that._

It had been decided that Catherine would announce her pregnancy that day, before she started 'showing'. She would tell everyone that she was 'helping a couple have children', which was true. People did do that, and since Catherine was truly helping her and Vincent have children, there wasn't a lie in it. A little deception, maybe, but not a lie.

Vincent again sighed, and even though he was alone, blushed a bit. Catherine and Father discussed the pregnancy and childbirth so-so _openly_; something Vincent really wasn't comfortable discussing, or even _thinking_ about in the privacy of his chamber. Father was a doctor, so that explained him being at such ease, and Catherine was from Above, where it seemed talking openly of those matters was considered normal and expected. Below, when someone got pregnant, everyone generally knew who it was with and accepted it, not talking about it further (unless the women did, which Vincent was pretty sure they did. It seemed that no matter where women lived, Above or Below, gossiping was always a trait).

Vincent gave a little moan, thinking about the child being conceived. He had absolutely no memory of it, at all. He searched and searched his mind, but that day, as well as all the other days he had spent in madness, was forgotten.

_Or maybe blocked. _Vincent realized. _I most likely blocked them from my mind._

How many times had Vincent dreamed of the day where a child could be _possibly_ conceived from him, in Catherine? How many times had he let his mind drift too far while watching her, or what about all the times he was lost in her emotions, and felt her warm and amused ones back, which, by the way, embarrassed him every time.

Vincent was ashamed of himself for being the way he was, thinking the he did; looking the way he did... it didn't seemed right. A girl – woman like Catherine should be up Above, flirting with all kinds of men on the most expensive beach, not underneath the ground with a man who was... the way Vincent was.

_And I've only been encouraging her. _Vincent realized. _Encouraging her to love me, instead of someone else._

Vincent knew that wasn't true. Several times he tried to persuade her to find love up top, but she always refused. True, he didn't try very hard, but still. Catherine seemed happy Below. Maybe their love wasn't such a bad thing.

Vincent may of realized his thoughts were fragmented, irrational, out-of-order, and even crazy, or maybe he didn't. But just the same, with all of those thoughts wavering in his mind, he fell asleep.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

Catherine quickly dialed the phone number before she changed her mind. She held her breath as she thought _please don't answer it, please don't answer it_. Unfortunately for her, her wish was not granted; her cousin Meg picked up on the next ring.

"Hello, Meg Scottson." Meg answered the phone, using her married name.

"Hey Meg, this is Catherine!" Catherine greeted her favorite cousin and ultimately, her favorite relative.

"Catherine, it's so good to hear from you!" Meg said happily, sinking into a overstuffed chair. "How's it going?"

"Everything is going great," Catherine said. _If you only knew, _she couldn't help but think. "How's Mike and the kids?"

"Oh, we're all great." Meg assured Catherine. "Mike may get a transfer over to Ohio, but I told you that already, didn't I?"

"You did." Catherine said. Meg and her family lived in Indiana. "How are Bailee and Cameryn?"

"Well, Bailee is going to start school this coming September, so she's really excited about that." Meg told her cousin. "It's only June, I keep telling her, but she wants her school lunch packed NOW!"

It was the next evening and Catherine had finally gotten up the courage to call and break the news to Meg. Catherine knew that all she had to do was tell Meg, and pretty soon the whole family would know, hopefully not all pestering Catherine with questions. Meg thought motherhood and childbirth were the most wonderful things in the world.

Catherine chuckled as Meg continued. "Cameryn hasn't been up to much; just normal three-year-old stuff. Well, actually, not exactly _normal_. Have you ever heard of autism?"

Catherine nodded, but then remembered to speak, as Meg could not see her nod. "Yes, I have."

"It may be a little to early to tell, but Mike and I are beginning to think that Cameryn may be mildly autistic. She can barely speak at her age, won't eat certain foods, and shows other symptoms. Grandpa Chandler had autism, you know, so she could have inherited it."

"Uh-Huh," Catherine said slowly. "It's hereditary?"

"Yes, people believe so." Meg told Catherine. "So keep us and Cameryn in your prayers."

"I will most certainly do that." Catherine said, nervously clearing her throat. "Well, _I_ have big news."

"What is it?" Meg asked eagerly.

"I-I'm pregnant." Catherine let the secret out.

"What?" Meg started screaming with happiness for Catherine. "Your _pregnant_? Oh my gosh, Cathy! Your so lucky! When is the baby due?"

"Umm..." Catherine thought a bit. "Father-I mean, the doctor said maybe late January, early February."

Meg started screaming again. "A mother, Catherine? Your going to become a mother? How _wonderful_!" Meg stopped for a moment. "So who's the special guy?"

"T-T-The special g-guy?" Catherine stuttered.

"Yeah – who's your boyfriend?" Meg asked, still full of delight and happiness. "The same one you've had for two years that you only speak of when your practically forced to, and the one you spare all details about? Is it that one?"

"Yes." Catherine admitted. "He is going to be the father."

"Are you getting married?" Was Meg's next question.

Catherine stared blankly into space. Were her and Vincent going to get married? They hadn't talked about _that_ yet! "Um, we haven't exactly spoke about that yet – the marriage part, I mean."

"Well you'd better get on the ball!" Meg joked. "What did he say when he found out about the pregnancy? No, what did _you_ say when you found out?"

"Well," Catherine said slowly. "I was a little... dumbfounded, to say the least, and so was my... special guy."

"Come on, Cathy." Meg said. "Tell me a bit more about this guy; where'd you meet him, where's he from, is he cute?"

"I met him... in New York." Catherine answered carefully. "He's from... New York, I suppose you could say. And while I wouldn't say 'cute', he's awfully handsome, and _very_ beautiful."

"Ooh, you making me want a picture!" Meg moaned. "You've _gotta_ send me one!"

"I-I can't." Catherine stuttered. "It's kind of complex."

"Well, tell me more about this guy then!" Meg coaxed. "What does he do for a living, about his family, you know, all the details? Spare me none!"

"Umm... his father is a doctor... his brother is a little bit of everything as his occupation – both very nice men. My, er, 'special guy', um, is a teacher, I suppose you could say."

"A teacher?" Meg sounded genuinely surprised. "I never knew that you like intellectual guys, Catherine. What does he teach?"

"English and literature." Catherine said.

"Where does he teach?" Meg wanted to know next.

"Well, he's kind of a... more of a tutor. He doesn't teach at school... he brings the school to the children, kind of." Catherine attempted to explain. "Look, I'm really tired – can I call you back in a couple days?"

"Sure." Meg told her cousin. "Just remember, more _details_!"

"Right, more details." Catherine said wearily. "I promise. Kiss Bailee and Cameryn goodnight for me."

"I will." Meg said. "Love you, be safe, 'bye."

"Goodnight." Catherine said, putting the phone back in its cradle. She massaged her temples. Good, now that Meg knew, Catherine wouldn't have to feel as pressured to call all of the relatives and tell them the news. Word would get around – it usually did.

Suddenly she heard light tapping on the French doors, leading towards her balcony. Instantaneously, Catherine knew it was 'her special guy'; she quickly jumped off of the couch and went outside to see Vincent.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**_  
_

"I feel so bad keeping secrets from her like this." Catherine confessed to Vincent. "I've never kept a secret this big from Meg before."

"The two of you seem very close." Vincent said.

"Oh, we are." Catherine confirmed, walking over to look out over the streets. "Or we were. As girls, we used to play together a lot. She was like the sister I never had, you know? Always there to get me in trouble, most always there to get me out of it, to play dolls with, have tea parties with." Catherine chuckled. "We were both about ten when Beatlemania became a word, and the name 'George' has been dear to our hearts ever since."

Vincent laughed softly. "Meg, does she realize, at all, that your keeping a secret? What of me have you told her?"

Catherine took a deep breath. "Well, tonight I told her more than I ever have before. I told her that you were from New York, that your father was a doctor, that you taught English and literature, and are very beautiful." she glanced sideways at Vincent, who blushed deeply at Catherine's last adjective.

"Med did mention something that worried me though." Catherine noted. "She mentioned that apparently autism runs in our family – I wonder if the baby will have it or not."

"If it does," Vincent said. "We'll make it through it."

"Vincent, I wonder..." she said slowly.

"What do you wonder, Catherine?" Vincent asked Catherine.

"If I could tell Meg about your world." she finished. "Meg can be trusted – I know it! She could come for a day or two; an we can introduce her to everyone Below! Father, Mary, Mouse, Jamie, Pascal, William..."

Vincent's head started spinning. Bring another stranger Below? It seemed that that had been happening more and more often these past couple years.

"I-I don't know," Vincent faltered. "One look at me, and she-"

"No she won't!" Catherine insisted. "Please, Vincent – lying to Meg hurts me so much but if I just tell her the truth, lying won't be necessary any longer!"

Vincent took a deep breath, trying to ration out his thoughts. "Well, Catherine, I can speak with Father about it, to see what I can do, but I'm making no promises." he glanced at her. "You know I'm only doing this for you."

"Yes, I do." Catherine said, giving Vincent a big hug. "Your so sweet -thank you so much! You have no idea how much this means to me!"

Vincent put his hand on his heart. "I think I do." he reminded Catherine of his bond. "Take care." he turned from her, getting ready to descend back to the concrete ground of NYC.

"Vincent," Catherine stopped him. "I really appreciate these late night visits, I really do. Only... only I'm worried. If something happens to you... Vincent, I need you. This baby needs you. Please Vincent, I know I'm asking a lot, but please, for my sake, for our baby's sake, can you please stay Below until at least after the baby is born, or not come up so often? I'll come Below regularly, I promise. I just don't like you being in danger like this."

Vincent paused before nodding. "I was having similar thoughts just last evening. Good night, Catherine."

"Good night." she said, before going back inside and going to bed.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**_  
_

"Father, Catherine is right – she must tell Meg the truth!" Vincent told Father the next morning.

"And why is this so important now?" Father wanted to know. "The last I checked, you and Catherine had enough problems without having to worry about another person's knowledge of the Tunnels."

"This is my home," Vincent said, gesturing with his hands. "Catherine would never jeopardize its safety unless she thought it was necessary."

"And why does she find it necessary?"

Vincent took a deep breath. "Her cousin is like a sister to her, Father. Catherine has no living parents or siblings – Meg is the closest relative she has. And Meg knowing the truth will be useful – Meg can help try to answer the rest of the relatives' questions."

Father sighed. "Vincent, is you truly believe this is necessary, even though we have enough going on as is-"

"It could be helpful." Vincent pointed out. "Meg sounds like she could be more of a help than a worry. An it would be better for Catherine, not keeping secrets any longer from Meg? What would you think if Devin and I kept such things secret from each other?"

"That's entirely different." Father sputtered. "Your brothers!"

"Are we?" Vincent asked. "No more than Catherine and Meg are sisters. She's one of the only family Catherine has – please, Father, let Catherine introduce Meg to us."

"And what of when Meg sees you?" Father challenged. "She may not open up to you such as Catherine and the rest of us did."

"She will be frightened; I don't doubt that for a moment." Vincent said. "But I trust Catherine's judgment – she would never risk putting our world in danger."

"And what of Meg's family; her husband, her children?" Father pointed out. "Our we to put our world in their hands as well, or is Meg to leave them in the dark?"

"We'd take it slowly." Vincent calmly explained. "Give Meg a few weeks to let the information settle, and then explain it to her husband. As for the children, Meg and her husband can decide whether to tell them or not. They'll make the right choice, I'm sure of it."

"And what makes you so sure?" Father wanted to know.

"Because Catherine trusts them." Vincent said quietly, looking at his father's eyes. "It's for the best, I'm sure."

Suddenly Vincent stopped, concentrating on their bond. He looked troubled.

"What is it, Vincent?" Father asked, concernedly.

"Catherine – she's at work. She's angry, upset." Vincent said. "I don't think I've ever felt her this unhappy before."

"Do you think she's all right?" Father wanted to know.

Vincent nodded. "I think so. I'll ask her tonight."

"How's that other bond going?" Father asked. "Are you still sensing that other person?"

Vincent nodded. "Yes, I am. This other person seems... different. It seems that this person has no feelings, no emotions, and where its location is, I cannot tell." he shook his head frustration. "It's a different sort of sense – nothing like the one I have with Catherine. Yet, when I'm with Catherine, the sense grows stronger."

Father raised his eyebrows, as if he just figured something out. "Vincent, that's it!"

"What's it?" Vincent asked.

"What you just said – repeat it?" Father told his son.

"'This other person seems different. It seems that this person has no feelings, no emotions, and where its location is, I cannot tell. It's a different sort of sense – nothing like the one I have with Catherine. Yet, when I'm with Catherine, the sense grows stronger.'" Vincent quoted himself. "I don't understand, Father."

"'Yet when I'm with Catherine, the sense grows stronger'." Father quoted the words of Vincent's that he was interested in. "Don't you see, Vincent? When you are with Catherine, you _are _closer to the new person your sensing!"

"The baby..." Vincent realized in surprise. "Father, do you really think-"

"Yes, I do." Father interrupted. "Think of it... when did you start sensing this person?"

Vincent nodded. "Around the same time Catherine became pregnant." he blushed slightly, but lucky for him, Father didn't seem to notice. Instead, he changed the subject back to the original one.

"Catherine's cousin, Meg." Father said. "When is she coming to visit Below?"

Vincent's eyes widened. "Does that mean you agree to it?"

Father sighed. "Do I have any other choice? Besides, I think you are right." Father said. "Meg can be here for Catherine during the pregnancy and delivery, and can help her find a way to keep the child a secret from the world Above."

"Thank you, Father." Vincent said, bending down to kiss his Father on the forehead. "Thank you."

Father cleared his throat. "Don't you have a class to go teach?"

Vincent nodded. "I do. I will see you later, Father."

Father nodded. _Yes, having Meg here could be helpful._ Father mused. _Yes, I suppose it could be helpful_.


	8. Chapter 8

8

**Note: On Benedryl while writing this, and listening to **_**Disney Mania 5**_** and then C**_**ommander Kellie and the Superkids: The Sword.**_** The latter seems to help my deeper writing – if you review anything, review this chapter. I'd appreciate all opinions and corrections! Also, this chapter is ultra long – but I think, in the words of Mouse, that it may be 'better than good. Better than best'. Enjoy!**

"I'm so glad Father agreed to it!" Catherine squealed with delight, giving Vincent a big hug.

"I am rather surprised myself." Vincent said. "He seemed a little reluctant. The world Below is important to him, as it is to everyone else."

"I can't wait to talk to Meg!" Catherine said. "Maybe she could spend the weekend with me – I'll take her Below then."

"Catherine, what are you planning on telling Meg?" Vincent asked her. "Over the telephone, I mean."

"I suppose I'll tell her that I'd like to see her again." Catherine said slowly. "And say I'd like to talk some very important things over with her, and if she handles those things well, I'll introduce her to my 'special guy'." she gave Vincent a teasing look.

The two were in the Tunnels, going on a walk, aimlessly around the Tunnels. They had discussed many things – the weather, Catherine's latest going-ons Above, things Vincent was doing Below, Mouse's new gizmo, Pascal's new system, William's terrific stew, etc. The closest they got to discussing the baby though was the introducing Meg to Below, something Catherine had been pining to do for years and now felt was necessary. Vincent couldn't help but agree that it would be good for Catherine to have a close friend and family member of Catherine's to know of Below's existence.

_He seems reluctant to talk about the baby, _Catherine realized. _Every time I bring it up, he changes the subject. Yet its something that we _must_ speak about! If we don't have every detail planned, something disastrous could happen!_

_She is insistent to keep bringing up the baby, _Vincent thought. _I would, only I cannot believe it. Also, this is something that's not discussed! Well, it is, but by the husband and wife, mother and father. And husband and wife, Catherine and I are not! Mother and father, well, apparently we'll be soon._

"Vincent," Catherine said urgently. "We need to talk about the baby."

"I know." Vincent said quietly. "It's just that..."

"That what?" Catherine prodded.

"It's just that I don't feel I'm ready to." Vincent let out. "I-I'm still having trouble believing the fact that your-" he glanced uncomfortably at her. "Pregnant."

"You don't _believe_ me?" Catherine asked, her emotions rising.

"No, no." Vincent said. "I _believe _that your... pregnant. I'm just not... used to the idea yet. And I'm afraid to make any decisions right now... I'm not ready to be a father, I don't think."

"Are you saying that you don't want this baby?" Catherine asked desperately.

"No!" Vincent said quickly. "Yes! I-I, Catherine, I want the baby! I'm just... apprehensive, knowing that every decision I make could change this- our baby's life forever."

_Her emotions... _Vincent slowly realized. _Her emotions are those of a pregnant woman's. She'll calm down._

"Catherine," Vincent said gently. "Your beautiful, brave, the most amazing person I've ever met." Vincent took a deep breath, not often saying these things out loud. "I-I'm more than happy that your carrying _our_ baby – really, I am."

Catherine shook her head. "Vincent, what are we going to do?"

"We'll make it." Vincent assured her. "We will, I promise."

"Where will the baby live?" Catherine asked. "Below would be best for it, I think."

"It would." Vincent agreed. "But you cannot live Below – Father would not approve."

Catherine rolled her eyes. "Like _that_ makes any sense. I can live Below, and still continue my work Above. We could live in different chambers – I don't see the harm."

Vincent blushed at Catherine's mention of 'living in different chambers' and then turned an even darker shade as he tried to explain to Catherine. "Catherine, such talk as conception, pregnancy and childbirth are not – are not discussed Below. We do not – talk about such things. It's inappropriate for the men to discuss."

"But what if the man is the father?" Catherine asked. "And shouldn't we discuss it with Father? Isn't this quite a different circumstance than normal pregnancies Below?"

Vincent knew that Catherine was right, and he didn't mind admitting to it. "You are right, Catherine." he said, looking into her eyes. "You are right. I will try to be more open to discussing our baby and the pregnancy with you."

"You'll _try_?" Catherine looked at Vincent, startled. "You will just _try_?"

"Catherine," Vincent said gently. "Catherine, please calm down."

"Calm down?" Catherine questioned, angry. "I'm pregnant with _your_ child, of all the people in the world, _your_ child, and you tell me to calm down? Vincent, I'm scared to death! This child is probably carrying DNA that could threaten its life – and your life, and you tell me to calm down? Vincent, sometimes I don't get you!"

She broke down sobbing in Vincent's arm. Vincent ran his hand through her hair, trying to calm her down. "Ssh, ssh." He attempted to quiet her. "Ssh. It will be all right – ssh."

Vincent felt miserable. Through their bond, all of Catherine's feelings were pouring into him – her anger, her fear, her confusion, and many other emotions that Vincent couldn't quite name. He tried to concentrate on them, to try to understand how Catherine felt.

"Catherine, I know how you feel." Vincent said.

"No you don't!" Was Catherine's immediate response. "You don't have any idea!"

"Our bond." Vincent reminded her. "Please Catherine – it will be all right. Please, calm down."

Catherine jerked away from Vincent. "You are ridiculous! Calm down? All of this pressure on me and I'm to _calm down_? That's it – I'm leaving."

And with that, she jerked away from Vincent and marched down the Tunnels, and left through the Tunnels entrance in her basement.

Vincent sighed, his shoulders sagging. _What did I do to make her so angry at me? _He felt so tired, all of his emotions drained, thanks to their bond. He trudged into Father's chamber, where Father was busy playing another chess game with Kipper.

Father took one look at his son's face and knew that something was wrong, that his son needed to talk. "Kipper," Father said. "Do you think we could finish this game later?"

"Postponing the agony will only make it worse." Kipper told Father.

"The agony?" Vincent questioned.

"The agony of losing." Kipper explained.

Normally Vincent would have chuckled, but he didn't. Father cleared his throat and looked at Kipper. "I think I chose to postpone the... agony. Please Kipper, I must talk to Vincent."

Kipper nodded and left the chamber. Father motioned for Vincent to sit down, to which Vincent declined.

"Vincent," Father began. "Vincent, what is it? You look like someone just beat you with a broom." He tried to humor whatever the situation might be, but it didn't seem to work.

Vincent sighed. "It's Catherine."

Father was concerned. "Is she all right?"

Vincent nodded. "I think so. She's... angry at me, I think."

Father raised his eyebrows. "Did she tell you that? Why was she angry at you?"

Vincent shrugged as he tried to explain. "She told me, in so many other words, that she was angry at me. Why she was angry at me... she seemed to somewhat understand my reluctance to discuss certain matters. Her behavior seemed very..."

"Irrational?" Father asked, to which Vincent nodded. "And your feeling this through your bond?"

Again, Vincent nodded. "She's so angry, so afraid, so confused, and many other emotions that cannot label – have never even felt before."

Father began to chuckle. Well, it started out as a chuckle. But it quickly evolved into a Santa-like series of "ho-ho's", which was rare for Father.

Vincent stared at his father, dumbfounded. "Father, this is serious!"

"Oh, Vincent!" Father said in between laughs. "It's her hormones!"

"Hormones?"

"A pregnant woman's hormone's surge during her pregnancy," Father tried to clarify. "She gets angry over things that she normally wouldn't. Things upset her that wouldn't if she were not with child."

"Why are you laughing?" Vincent still couldn't understand.

"Your bond." Father said. "Your feeling all of Catherine's emotions. It's something no man has ever done before, to survive the roller-coaster of a woman's emotions, especially while she is pregnant. Son, you are in for quite an adventure." With that said, he began laughing again.

Vincent understood, but still didn't see what was so hilarious. "Well, I don't find it funny." he said, stalking out of the chamber, heading towards his own.

Father just continued laughing. Vincent would be all right, he knew that. Meanwhile, the strange humor of the situation overcame him, and he continue to laugh.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

Catherine wearily plopped down on her bed, emotionally drained and exhausted. How could Vincent be like that? So unwilling to discuss something that they _had_ to discuss, for their baby's safety, for _her_ safety?

Of course, in the back of her mind, she knew she was being irrational. But she ignored that. Instead, she checked her answering machine, the little red light blinking.

She had messages from people at work, giving her another 'congratulations'. Edie and Jenny seemed especially interested, asking about 'her man'. Catherine groaned, wishing she had someone to vent to over her anger at Vincent. Meg flashed across her mind, but even despite of her emotions, Catherine decided against it. It wouldn't be good for Catherine's vents to be the first impression Meg had on Vincent.

She pulled out _The Patchwork Girl of Oz_ and tried to read it, but was disinterested, and soon fell asleep.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

Vincent slowly opened one eye and then the other. That was strange – his chamber was full of light, candles all aglow. He usually blew them all out when he went to bed, save one big fat one next to his bed. And his clothes – he was still wearing his day clothes, and his boots. He always wore his white nightshirt and socks to bed. Something was wrong.

He shook his head, trying to recall the previous day's events that caused the unusual circumstances that he awoke to.

_Oh, yes. _He remembered. _Catherine and I had an argument – sort of. She was angry at me because I felt a little uncomfortable discussing – no, she understood that. Oh yes, her hormones were out of sorts._

He gave a little moan when he remembered that he was going to share all of her emotions with her throughout the pregnancy. Father was right; it would definitely be a wild ride. But he gave an even bigger groan when he pulled out his pocket watch and realized that it was two in the morning.

_It's only two in the morning? _Vincent realized. _I came into my chamber last night – it must have been about six o'clock in the evening. I laid down on my bed and must have fell asleep._

Not bothering to change his clothes, Vincent just lazily rolled over shut his eyes and attempted to go back to sleep. But ten minutes later, he deemed that impossible. He had slept a full nine hours, and now had too much on his mind to go back to sleep.

_I've never been so emotionally drained that I actually fell asleep, _Vincent said, slowly pulling himself out of bed. _And to think that women have to put up with that all of the time – unbelievable._

He made his was sleepily over to a dresser, where he pulled out a change of clean clothes. Then he started for his bathing chamber.

As he bathed, he tried to concentrate on Catherine's emotions, how she was feeling. She was asleep, peacefully asleep in her apartment, he could tell.

_Well, that's good. _He thought. I'd_ hate for _her_ to be the one awake at two in the morning. Does she have any idea what she's put me through?_

He quickly shut off the bond, realizing that his emotions, though not quite as severe and strong as Catherine's has been earlier, could wake her. And the more rested she was, the better his emotions fared for the next eight months or so.

After he was done, he began the drying process. Getting dried and clothed sounded easy, and it was, once you were down with the drying part. Vincent ran the towel back and forth over his back, chest, arms, legs and head, trying to dry off. His skin was covered with a layer of red-blonde fur, and getting the fur dry enough to clothe wasn't easy.

After he was dried and clothed, he went back to his chamber, where he tried almost in vain to pull a comb through his blonde-red hair. His hair was so long, and had a certain texture different than anyone else he had met. It resembled the texture some African-American people who lived Below had, but it wasn't quite the same. That texture combined with the length made hair-combing a tedious process. It was kind of humiliating, knowing that hair-brushing was something normally only woman had to worry about it, but he brushed it aside; combing his hair was perhaps the least humiliating part of himself.

_I really wonder what the baby will look like, _Vincent wondered as he brushed his teeth. _Will it be beautiful like Catherine? Will it have fair skin, honey-brown hair, beautiful eyes and a wonderful smile? Or will it be covered in fur, with fangs instead of teeth? Will it be beautiful – or not?_

Vincent admonished himself for thinking thoughts like that. He knew that he shouldn't be thinking like that. He knew Catherine didn't think like that. He knew that when she said he was beautiful, she meant it.

Vincent shook his head. He didn't see what Catherine saw in himself. He didn't see any potential. All he saw was a man, or at least part of a man. He didn't see himself quite capable of raising a child.

_Your perfectly capable! _Vincent's rational side told himself. _And it's not like you'll be doing it alone – you'll be parenting alongside Catherine._

'Parenting'. The word struck Vincent like a ton of bricks. Parenting. He was going to be a parent. While it was exciting, but it scared him as well. Father had assured him that those feelings were normal, but Vincent wasn't too sure. Not every father in history had the same jitters, did they? Besides, Vincent had more to worry about. What if the baby _did_ look like him? What if the baby was fully animal, no human brain at all? And what if the baby did go mad during certain periods of its life?

Vincent knew that no matter what the child was like, that they'd make it throughout any circumstances. Vincent, Catherine, and the Tunnel dwellers always did. And the child would be loved, unconditionally, by both Catherine and Vincent.

_Wait, that's an odd thought, _Vincent realized. _I love this baby already, and Catherine's barely two months pregnant. We have no idea if it is a boy or a girl, we have no name, and no idea what challenges this baby will bring forth. Yet, right now, if it were my life or the baby's, what would I give up?_

Vincent wrestled with the thought. If an angel was to appear to him right then, and tell him that one had to die, what would Vincent choose? The baby to die, or himself?

_I'd like to think I'd choose the baby the live, _Vincent thought. _After all, that's what any loving father would do – I know Father would for me or Devin. But if it really came down to it, what would I choose?_

Father stuck his head into Vincent's chamber. "Vincent?" he said, surprised to see his son awake.

"Father," Vincent said, equally to see his father awake at the early hour. "What are you doing awake at this hour?"

"I-I, er," Father cleared his throat, not wanting to embarrass himself or his son at what he was about to say. "I was, uh, just going to, er, check up on you."

"Check up on me?" Vincent asked Father, amused.

"Yes, to see if you were- oh forget it." Father turned to go.

"No, Father, it's all right." Vincent assured Father. "But just out of curiosity, why?"

"You seemed pretty... disturbed last evening." Father explained. "I woke up a few moments ago, and thought that I would check and make sure that you were... all right."

Vincent gave the older man a hug. "Thank-you Father, but I'm fine. Just fine."

"What are you doing awake?" Father demanded. "After all, it's three in the morning!"

"I woke and couldn't go back to sleep." Vincent explained with a sigh. "I have a lot on my mind."

Father nodded. "Anything you'd like to talk about?"

Vincent shook his head. "I'd hate the keep you from sleep."

"I'm fine." Father insisted. "When everyone say that you retired early, it inspired the rest of us to go to sleep at about eight-thirty or nine. Besides, you are more important than my rest."

Vincent sighed. "That is what I am worried about."

Father raised his eyebrows, taking a seat. "Continue."

"Have you ever asked yourself 'if someone had to die, me or Devin, who would it be?' Or 'if I could choose Vincent's life over mine, or my life over Vincent's, which one would I choose'?" Vincent asked.

Father shook his head. "I don't follow."

Vincent took a deep breath, about to attempt to explain again. "What if Devin or I were to face death? Would you take our place?"

"Well," Father said slowly. "Would I choose my life over one of my children's?" he looked at Vincent in the eyes. "I hope I would. I hope I'd be brave enough to stand up and say 'me instead'. And I'd like to give you every assurance that I'd give up my life for yours, or your brother's. I think I would, Vincent – I really think I would, but that's a question that's impossible to answer unless one was put in the situation." he looked at his son very seriously. "Why do you ask?"

"It's just because of Catherine, and the baby, and..." Vincent's voice trailed off. "I-I just don't know what to do!" Frustrated, Vincent put his head in his hands.

"Let's hope that your child is never put in a life or death situation." Father said. "But if they were put in such a situation, I have every confidence that you and Catherine would do the right thing."

Vincent looked up, his eyes meeting his father's. "You do?"

"Every confidence." Father repeated. "Your going to be a wonderful father, Vincent, just wonderful. And Catherine will make a wonderful mother."

Vincent shook his head in doubt. "I believe Catherine would make a good mother, but I don't know that-"

Father interrupted, lifting Vincent's chin up with his hand. "You'll do fine." He assured Vincent, looking at Vincent in the eyes. "Trust me. And if you ever have any doubts, that's what the rest of us, are here for. We love you, Vincent, and we love Catherine, too."

Vincent nodded. "I hope so."

"I know so." Father said. "How do you feel about the baby now?"

"I feel..." Vincent searched for the words. "I feel that I love the baby, that I couldn't possibly love it more."

"How could you question that love?" Father asked his son. "You feel that way about the baby now – wait until its born! You'll love the baby more than you do now, so much it hurts." Father paused, clearing his throat. "When you first came to us, you were very weak, and very sick."

Vincent nodded. He knew that – it was a story that the children loved to hear, of Vincent being small and sick, unimaginable for them, and of the rest of the Tunnel dwellers' acceptance and kindness. But what was Father getting at?

"There were moments were we weren't sure you would live." Father told him. "And there were moments I felt that as if I could give you every breath I had in my body, I would. Biologically, you weren't my child, but we had only had you less than a day before I was willing to give you my last breath. What does that tell you, Vincent?"

Vincent shook his head, not knowing what to make of the situation that Father had just relayed to him. Father had basically said that he had been willing to give up his life for Vincent's, before Father even knew Vincent at all, Vincent no more than a few hours old.

"You see, Vincent," Father explained. "Becoming a father is a strange thing. What makes Devin biologically mine? Why doesn't Devin's spirit and body belong to another human being? What made you be found and taken Below, to become my child? Is it fate, is it destiny? Some may call it that. I call it a gift. A destined gift."

Vincent nodded. "So what you are trying to say is that even though I've never met this baby, I'm bound by something... supernatural to love it?"

Father nodded. "Kind of. It's hard to explain, hard to understand. Something I'm confident that you will understand someday. But that day won't come for another seven to eight months, at the least. It could be the first time you hold the baby, or it could be forty years from now when your having a discussion with your son like I'm having now. But someday, you'll understand that every pain and trouble you went through for the child is worth it. Trust me, Vincent, the feeling is... amazing."

"When did you first recognize the feeling?" Vincent wanted to know.

"The first time I held Devin, I had an inkling of the feeling." Father told him. "And again, when I held you in my arms, the inkling became a little bigger. And as time has gone on, to see the both of you grow up, fall in love, take care and love each other and everyone else Below. Knowing that if I were to die today, my duties would be fulfilled, being responsible for the lives of two men, two grown, responsible, thoughtful, intelligent, caring, handsome men."

Vincent shook his head. "I'm so worried I'll fail you, that I already have."

"You haven't." Father assured Vincent, taking Vincent's hand. "You continue to amaze me. You failing me would be inconceivable." Father took a deep breath. "And speaking of 'inconceivable', we have another thing to talk of."

Vincent turned a shade of crimson, knowing what Father was bringing up.

Father chuckled. "Ah, remember the first time we had this conversation?"

"I was twelve, as I recall." Vincent told me. "That's the first time you told me that 'it could never be' – I was relieved."

Father laughed. "That's that same thing I recall." his tone turned serious. "And while you have managed to prove me wrong-"

"I didn't try to." Vincent protested.

"No, no you didn't." Father said. "There are two circumstances in which a person can not control whether they speak their heart or not; while asleep or while mad, if you will. You spoke your heart, and Catherine responded. Neither one of you meant to defy me, each other, or anything of the sort, I understand that. However," Father paused, gathering his thoughts, in which Vincent spoke up, attempting to finish Father's sentence.

"However, a second attempt to prove you wrong wouldn't be wise." Vincent finished.

Father nodded; relieved that Vincent said it and that he didn't have to. "Yes. Catherine mentioned a few cuts and scrapes you gave her – she says its nothing serious." he added. "And she also mentioned you were rather... 'clumsy', she called it. I'm sure now that if you were in your right mind, she'd be fine. But-"

"Risking anything would be crazy." Vincent said. "Life isn't a game to play, I understand. Father. I've already thought of it."

"And another thing; you are aware, I presume, of how, er, _conception_ works?" Father asked.

Vincent wrinkled his brow as he nodded, wondering what Father was getting at.

"Catherine should have gotten pregnant within days of the sickness." Father began. "But instead it has been months, which is physically impossible for-"

"Any normal human being." Vincent interrupted. "I see what you're saying."

"Perhaps your body works differently in… sexual matters then other men." Father cleared his throat awkwardly.

Vincent nodded. "What shall we tell Catherine?"

Father looked up at Vincent, looking at his son deep in the eyes. "I hardly think that we should. It isn't… proper to speak of such things, unless it is Father and son, or brother to brother or…"

"Or?" Vincent prodded.

"Or husband and wife, which you are not." Father said flatly. "Completely improper, inappropriate. The world she is from is cultured in such a way, that if the thought crosses her mind of how she became pregnant months afterwards, she will ask, I have no doubts."

"Would Dr. Peter have mentioned something to her?" Vincent wanted to know.

Father shook his head. "He didn't think it was possible for Catherine to be pregnant at all, but he had her tested just in case. And as soon as he discovered she was pregnant, he let me know. He let me know of his thoughts on it while she was in your chamber, speaking with you."

Vincent just nodded. "Life can be very troubling." He stated.

Father agreed. "Yes, it can. Well, this conversation certainly lifted a burden off of my shoulders. Are there any other things you'd like to discuss?"

Vincent nodded. "A wish."

"A wish?" Father asked, puzzled.

"If I could have one wish, just one wish in the world to come true, do you know what my wish would be? There is nothing more I'd like to wish that every person could have a father like you." Vincent said with a smile. "Thank you Father."

Father cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Well, um, are you going to get- are you going to go back to sleep?"

Vincent shook his head. "I don't think so. What about you?"

Father nodded. "I think I'll try for a couple more hours. Goodnight, Vincent."

"Do you need help back to your chamber?" Vincent wanted to know, offering his assistance.

Father shook his head. "No, no, I don't. Goodnight."

"Goodnight." Vincent said as his father left his chamber. He took another look at his pocket watch. It was nearing four-thirty. Catherine would be up soon – she had to be at work at eight. But he felt that she was waking up right about now, having gone to sleep just about the same time as Vincent had. And if she was waking up, he had to be ready. As Father said, it was to be a wild ride on the emotional roller coaster.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

Catherine's consciousness was revived. She was in that state of sleep that no one ever talks about, the state that when your awake, with your eyes closed, but if you don't concentrate on something, and just let your mind wander aimlessly, you fall asleep, unconscious, once again.

She was almost back asleep when she was interrupted by a feeling, a feeling of love. _Vincent? _She wondered sleepily. _What's he doing awake?_

She opened her eyes, trying see the large blue letters on her digital clock. They were really blurry at first, but soon they came into focus and read 3:24 AM.

Her body still tired, she laid back down with a sigh. What had caused Vincent to feel the feeling of love? Was he thinking of her? She hoped so.

The previous night's events came flooding back to her. She sighed. She felt bad. Why had she treated Vincent so badly! He had explained to her that discussing such matters was something that he normally had never discussed, and that it would take some getting used to, but he would discuss the matters with her, from conception, through delivery, and beyond. And what had she done? Get make at him and stormed away.

_Catherine, _she told herself. _It was hormones – explain that to Vincent. It was practically out of your control. Talk to Dr. Peter. See if he knows of some kind of pregnancy-safe pills to take to help control hormones._

She hoped there was, but she wasn't about to call and wake him to find out. Instead she rolled out of bed and padded over to her closet. After selecting a new outfit she bought the day before and clean underclothes, she went into the bathroom that was connected to her bedroom.

As the hot water poured over her body, she let her mind wander back to Vincent. He had never experienced such luxuries, things she took for granted, such as hot water for a shower – or a shower at all. The Tunnel dwellers bathed in springs underground, some hot springs, some not.

_That's just wrong, _Catherine thought, letting the steamy water pour over her head, appreciating the warmth of the water that just seemed to soak into her skin. _Everyone should have the opportunity to feel this good under the water faucet. Our baby is definitely going to have the opportunity._

_Unless it lives Below. _She reasoned. _If it lives Below, it won't have the chance half as often. And if it looks like it's daddy, it won't have the chance at all, unless Vincent and I can somehow smuggle it into my apartment, and somehow that seems a little crazy just for a shower._

Despite the somewhat melancholy thoughts, she couldn't help but smile. What if the baby did look just like its daddy? Sure, Vincent would be bummed, to say the least, but what would it be like? Would it be like Vincent, smart, caring unconditionally, well-read, but nowhere near a geek? Or would it be more like her, well-read, but not half as 'well', relatively caring and relatively smart, kind of normal, kind of geeky? Or would it have a personality all of its own?

_Well, if it looks like Vincent, it'll probably wind up just like him. _Catherine thought decidedly. _Father introduced Vincent to books, simply so he'd have something to do while the other children played Above, and so that Vincent could travel, without ever leaving the safety of the Tunnels._

The realization of that saddened Catherine a bit, that Vincent had never left New York City – hadn't even seen New York City. He'd seen a lot of the empty alleyways, and seen the view from her balcony, sure, but it had ended there. She'd like nothing more to give him a tour of the city – of the world, making the most special spot Connecticut. They had wanted to go there once, but reason had settled in, of course, and they changed their plans at the last moment.

_One day we won't have to, _Catherine thought dreamily as she shampooed her hair, massaging her temples at the same time. _Someday we'll be able to walk through the streets, hand in hand, and- and it'll be like the dream I had once – walking down Fifth Avenue, sky blue, and he'd buy me an ice cream, no one looking twice. The entire world would accept him the way he is, love him the way he is, and embrace the differences._

She smiled, knowing she was sounding a bit like John Lennon. How did the lyrics of his famous solo song go? Something like 'imagine all the people living life in peace' and another line went 'imagine all the people sharing all the world'. And the bridge of the song, or was it the chorus, went 'you may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one', or something like that.

Those lyrics, if those were the correct ones, were the ones that described her feelings so well. Someday, maybe the world will live life in peace and share all the world. And while you might say she's a dreamer, she wasn't the only one. Vincent pined away for the experiences that, frankly, he could only dream of. Father, Mary, Dr. Peter, and everyone else who had known Vincent since his birth dreamed that someday he could walk the earth without any fear of rejection and hate, but knew that in the real world, unlike Below, not many people embraced differences, they just teased, taunted, and in Vincent's case, would kill.

Catherine stepped out of the shower and quickly wrapped herself in a big, soft towel, avoiding all of the air that seemed so cold now that she was used to the hot water, and now that she was wet.

_Is it a foolish dream? _Catherine wondered as she dried and dressed quickly. _No matter how many peace rallies you hold, no how many 'bed-ins for peace' you give, the world can never be truly peaceful. But does that mean that John Lennon wasted the last ten plus years of his life? No, you just have to find the compromise between war and absolute peace. Am I asking too much, that Vincent will someday be able to freely walk the streets without a problem? It seems that a man should be perfectly able to do that. I just want to do some things with Vincent – take him out for N.Y.C. Style pizza, go see a Broadway show, and maybe grab a hot coffee on our way back. We'd walk – sure, it'd be a long walk, but it'd be fun, and make the whole experience better._

Catherine continued to dream as she let herself out of the bathroom and padded her way over to the kitchen. Over the past two weeks, since she had found out she was pregnant; she really had let the apartment slide into a mess. And the mess seemed to accumulate on the table.

Catherine set a coffee pot up and while it brewed, she began sorting through the mess covering the table, mail, clean laundry in a basket she hadn't bothered to fold and put away, and dirty paper plates. She turned on her old Billy Joel record while she was at it. If she was going to do housework, she might as well have some good music. She was careful to keep the volume down though – her neighbors weren't exactly used to her blaring music at all hours of the morning.

She heard a tapping sound on her French doors. _Vincent! _She thought immediately. _He's never visited me this early in the morning!_

_Quickly_, she let him in, knowing it must be important for him to come so early. "Vincent," she said. "What are you doing here so early? It will be light soon."

"Not for two or three hours," Vincent replied. "Catherine, I need to speak with you about last evening. I need to apologize for-"

"It was my fault." Catherine interrupted. "All my fault. You were uncomfortable and I didn't take the time to care. It was entirely my fault. Case closed."

Vincent nodded. "I'm willing to discuss such matters now."

Catherine raised his eyebrows. "Are you sure? Now?"

"Maybe not now," Vincent said slowly. "But maybe-"

They were interrupted by the person who just moved in Catherine's neighboring apartment. The person had stepped out onto their balcony.

Vincent turned to quickly go, but Catherine grabbed his arm, stopping him. "No." she whispered. "Let's go inside."

"No, I-" Vincent attempted to protest, but gave up as Catherine led him into her apartment, an apartment that he visited often, but had only stepped inside once or twice for only a moment.

He, like the other times he visited, gazed around the apartment, trying not to gawk at the beauty of it, and how it differed from the chambers Below.

Catherine smiled. "Sit down, Vincent." she said, sprinting over to the kitchen to turn off her record that was ending. "Would you like some coffee? I just made a fresh pot."

Vincent didn't seem to hear her. It seemed that he had a lot on his mind, and was still kind of in a daze that he was in _her_ apartment at _night_. It didn't seem quite appropriate.

"Vincent, coffee?" Catherine repeated, holding up the pot.

"Oh." Vincent's mind landed on earth again. "No. No thank-you, Catherine."

"Well, I'm going to have some." Catherine poured herself a cup and then sat on her sofa. "Please, Vincent, sit." she motioned to the sofa across from her.

Gingerly, Vincent sat down, not wanting to put all of his weight on it, for fear he'd break it, but Catherine just smiled.

"Don't worry, Vincent." she said. "Your not _that_ heavy – don't worry about it."

"Catherine," Vincent said earnestly. "The baby – I'm ready to talk of it."

"Good." Catherine said. "But first lets set some things straight; I'm tired of calling this baby 'it'."

"But what else should we call it?"

"Argh! There it is again! You called the baby 'it'!" Catherine said in aggravation. "What will the baby's last name be?"

"What?" Vincent said, surprised by the change of subject. "The baby's last name? I'm not sure... must it- the baby have one?"

"Yes." Catherine said. "Everyone has to have a last name."

"I don't."

"Yes you do; Vincent Wells."

"That is Father's last name, which I only found out a short while ago." Vincent reminded her.

"Your last name is Wells." Catherine assured him. "When you were found, was there a naming ceremony?"

"Most likely."

"You were named Vincent Wells the second Father took responsibility as your Father, case closed." Catherine said. "Vincent Wells."

"All right!" Vincent said, throwing his hands up in the air. "But what of your last name? I read somewhere that if the mother isn't married, the baby is to have her last name?"

"Pish tosh," Catherine brushed it off. "I read that the moon was made of Swiss cheese – that doesn't make it right. There was this one family – I think the man's last name was Hamilton and the woman's David, so they gave all their children the last name Hamivid!"

"I'm not sure." Vincent said doubtfully. "Isn't that like ridding yourself of your heritage?"

Catherine nodded. "In a way, yes. But in a way, we're starting our own heritage, aren't we?"

Vincent nodded slowly. "So is the last name is be Wel-Andler?" Vincent tried to attach their last names together.

"We'll think on it!" Catherine laughed. "Where will the baby live?" she changed the subject.

"Below." Vincent said immediately.

"That's what I thought." Catherine said. "Below the baby will have everything a person needs to survive – and more."

"Except a mother." Vincent said quietly.

Catherine sighed. "I'm planning on talking to Father about moving Below, keeping my job at the DA's office and all, just living Below. But somehow I don't think Father will go for it."

"Father only wants best for me, you, and the baby." Vincent reminded her. "Whatever his suggestion is, we need to take into serious consideration."

"Meg might have a few ideas." Catherine commented.

"She might." Vincent mused. "Have you told her yet?"

Catherine shook her head. "I'm planning on doing it tomorrow evening, or rather, this evening. What are your plans for the day?"

"Work, teach, learn, and play." Vincent said with a smile. "As usual."

The two talked on and on, about everything under the sun, completely losing themselves in their discussion, and their joy of being alone, truly alone, which was a truly rare occasion.

Awhile later, they still had not moved from their positions, but were quickly swapping name ideas for the baby back and forth.

"If it's a boy, we've got to stick 'Charles' in their somewhere." Catherine stated.

"If you get to name him after your father, then I will name him after mine; Jacob." Vincent returned, smiling, knowing while their conversation sounded heated, they were actually both enjoying it very much.

"Everyone calls your father 'Father', not Jacob." Catherine said. "To truly name him after your father and mine, we'd have to name him 'Father Charles', and that would be fine if either of us were Catholic, but..."

Vincent's eyes twinkled, loving Catherine's humor. "Jacob Charles."

"That's so blah." Catherine changed her mind. "So ordinary, so plain, and it doesn't go well together anyways. How about Vincent Charles? Nah, I don't like that together neither."

"It's better than Edgar Allen." Vincent said. "A good poet a good writer, but his mother and father lacked naming skills."

"No one will say that about our baby." Catherine said. "They will say 'how did they come up with such a marvelous name'?"

"'They?" Vincent questioned, referring to Catherine's comment. "Who's 'they'?"

"I read about this man once who legally changed his name to 'they'." Catherine said. "So when people say, 'you know what they say...', they are actually speaking of a person."

Vincent shook his head. "There was someone in the 70's who wanted to change his name to a series of numbers. The numbers may have been 1069, but I cannot be sure. The judge would not let him change his name though."

"Why not?"

"He said it would hasten the day everyone has no names, just numbers." Vincent explained. "What girl names do you like?"

"Aurora." Catherine said dreamily.

"Aurora." Vincent repeated. "It means 'dawn'."

Catherine suddenly sat up straight. "What did you say?"

"It means-" Vincent leapt to his feet and looked over at a clock. "What time is it?"

The clock read 5:45AM. "Oh my goodness." Vincent breathed. "If I hurry, I can make it Below before it gets light."

"Too late!" Catherine cried out. Vincent turned around to see what Catherine was looking at. It was the sun, rising early in the summer morning.

"The basement!" Vincent exclaimed. "I can run down to the basement!"

"No!" Catherine said. "No – someone will catch you. Just stay calm. We'll spend the day in my apartment and tonight, once its dark enough, you can go back Below."

"I cannot do that!" Vincent said, his eyes blazing wildly. "It's dangerous! Father... Father will worry."

"I'll take care of Father." Catherine said gently. "Don't worry, Vincent – we'll take care of everything. Just sit tight and I'll be right back. I'm going Below and will let Father know your safe. Is there anything you need from Below?"

Vincent nodded. "As always, yourself safely home. It's all I ask."

Catherine gave Vincent a hug. "I'll be back within the hour. There is food in the cabinet, the coffee is probably cold by now. You can just stick a cup in the microwave..." her voice trailed, remembering that Vincent had no knowledge of how to run a microwave. "If your hungry, just sit tight. I'll be back as soon as possible." And with that, she went out the door and left, carefully locking it behind her.

Vincent sighed. Great, out of all the choices he made, he made the choice to go visit Catherine last night. He went into her apartment and allowed himself to get distracted. And now, he was stuck the entire day in her apartment. Well, not 'stuck' exactly – it would depend on whether she would stay or go to work. He smiled. All right, so maybe it was a bad situation. But making the best out of a bad situation was something he would try to do. Sure, Father would be angry at him, and sure, the children might miss their favorite teacher for a day, but they could consider this day Vincent's day off. Today was his day to spend time with Catherine and her with him.


	9. Chapter 9

9

"What girl names do you like?" Vincent asked.

_What girl names do I like_? Catherine asked _herself. I've always liked the name Aurora. _"Aurora." Catherine said.

"Aurora." Vincent repeated. "It means 'dawn'."

_Dawn – wait a minute – dawn! _Catherine suddenly sat up straight. "What did you say?"

"It means-" Vincent seemed to realize what Catherine had just realized. He quickly jumped to his feet.. "What time is it?"

Catherine and Vincent both turned to look at the clock, which said it was 5:45AM.

"Oh my goodness." Vincent said, obviously very concerned. "If I hurry, I can make it Below before it gets light."

Catherine only half heard Vincent – she was looking though the windows of her French doors, at the ball of red fire rising in the horizon. "Too late!" Catherine cried out. Vincent turned around to see what Catherine was looking at.

"The basement!" Vincent said quickly, heading towards Catherine's front door.. "I can run down to the basement!"

"No!" Catherine said, standing in front of the door to stop him.. "No – someone will catch you. Just stay calm. We'll spend the day in my apartment and tonight, once its dark enough, you can go back Below."

"I cannot do that!" Vincent said, his eyes blazing wildly. "It's dangerous! Father... Father will worry."

"I'll take care of Father." Catherine said calmly, though she didn't feel to _calm. His eyes look _wild, she _thought. But he's just worried, for himself, for Below, for me, for the baby. He's not going mad. _"Don't worry, Vincent – we'll take care of everything. Just sit tight and I'll be right back. I'm going Below and will let Father know your safe. Is there anything you need from Below?"

Vincent nodded. "As always, yourself safely home. It's all I ask."

Catherine smiled, remembering how Vincent had told her that once when she went to California. She had asked him if he wanted anything back, thinking a trinket or postcard of some sort, but he just told her all he wanted was her, back safely.

She now gave Vincent a hug. "I'll be back within the hour. There is food in the cabinet, the coffee is probably cold by now. You can just stick a cup in the microwave..." _Wait, Vincent doesn't know how to use a microwave! _She realized. "If your hungry, just sit tight. I'll be back as soon as possible." And with that, she went out the door.

She turned around and stuck her key into the lock, carefully locking the door. Not that she thought anyone would break in at this hour, but the love of her life was in there, who was irreplaceable, so she thought it would be better to be safe than sorry.

Once she was satisfied with the security of her apartment, she walked quickly down the hall, jogging down the stairs and where else she deemed appropriate. The sooner she got Below, the better. Father and the rest of the Tunnel dwellers were probably worried sick about Vincent, and she had to get back t her apartment, to call Joe. Who knew, maybe he'd give her the day off! She had had a lot of days of late, but she hoped Joe would understand. He was more than a boss – he was a friend, a very good friend.

_When I get back Above, _Catherine thought as she climbed down the ladder that lead Below. _When I get back Above, I'll fix us breakfast. And while we eat, I'll give Vincent the lowdown – what Father said, how he feels about the whole situation, and assure him everything is okay. And then, maybe we'll talk more about the baby. Or maybe we can play a game or something. I've got to call Joe, of course. And maybe I'll call Meg – yes! Call Meg – maybe she can even speak to my 'special man'._

Catherine couldn't help but giggle at the thought of Vincent being her 'special man' as she weaved throughout the Tunnels that she had learned her away around long ago. All right, so he was. He was a friend, the best kind of friend a girl could ask for, but the romance went much further than that. But she couldn't describe him as her 'boyfriend' or even 'significant other'. He wasn't her husband, so maybe 'special man' did fit.

Catherine remembered the first time she 'fell in love'. It was when she first discovered _the Beatles_. She had been a young girl, no older than ten or eleven, but that didn't matter to her. Her and Meg both fell hard for

George Harrison. Catherine didn't know when she and Meg grew out of that crush, but it was probably soon after the breakup of the band. Never, in Catherine's wildest dreams, had she dreamed of a man like Vincent. She had spent her entire puberty falling for a famous rock/pop musician whom 10,000 other girls drooled over, and who was married besides. She had expected handsome, charming, rich, and yes, famous. And yet, who did she wind up with? He was a musician by no means, and had no other girls crushing on him. He was handsome, beautiful even, and had a charm that was... indescribable. Rich? Yes, he was. Not with money or gold, but with love, warmth, family, knowledge. And as for the famous – Above no one knew of his existence. Below, he was very famous, and widely regarded for his virtues – love, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and usually joy and peace – and those were only the ones listed in the Bible (Galatians 5:22 – 32). He usually handled the self-control part well too, but there were times where he completely lost control, to his other nature.

_His other nature. _That put shivers up Catherine's spine. It sometimes frightened her, to think back to when Vincent had gone mad. He had been not himself, and though she would never admit it out loud, he was hardly human, mostly animal. Acting on instinct without a second thought, the same as a dog or pig. True, he couldn't help it, and she would never hold it against him, never.

Finally she arrived at Father's chamber, where there seemed to be some very important meeting going on.

"I say we go Above!" Kanin announced. "If people have found him, it will be on every newspaper, on every radio station."

"Now we don't know that he went Above." Mary said soothingly. "Maybe he just went for a walk in some other Tunnels and got lost."

"Vincent knows Tunnels good as Mouse." Mouse said. "Vincent doesn't get lost – I know."

"Well, we can't just stand here!" William said, beginning to get impatient.

"Has anyone thought of seeking me out?" Catherine spoke up, stepping into Father's chamber.

"Catherine!" Everyone said in one breath. Everyone then began speaking all at once, and it took Catherine and Father several minutes to silence them.

"Silence!" Father demanded, which brought a hush to the other Tunnelers. "Catherine, do you have news on Vincent? Please, share."

"Vincent's all right, he's just fine." Catherine assured everybody first. "Last evening, or this morning to be precise, very early, Vincent visited me at my apartment. Forgive us, both of us, but we lost track of time, and before we knew it, the sun had risen."

"Where is he?" "Did he sneak back with you?" "Are you sure he's all right?" "What do you mean?" The chamber was buzzing with all of the Tunnelers questions, and Father and Catherine again had to silence them.

"Vincent's in at my apartment and he's just _fine_." Catherine assured everyone. "A little on edge, eager to come back home, angry at himself for losing track of time, but he's all right. Tonight, once the sun sets, he'll come back home. He'll be fine – I promise you."

Jimmy, a young boy who lived Below, pulled on Catherine's sweatshirt to get her attention. "Who will read us _A Tale of Two _Cities today ?" he asked with a lisp.

Catherine knelt down to match the boy's height. "Maybe Father, or Mary, or maybe I could come down a bit later and read to you, okay? Or maybe we could take a break. Maybe we could skip a day and Vincent can read it out loud tomorrow."

"But Vincent never skips a day!" Maria, an eleven-year-old Tunneler with an obvious attachment to Vincent, pouted.

Catherine sighed. "I'm sorry, but that's the best I can do." She knew the young girl thought of Vincent as a favorite uncle, and that all of the children idolized him. "I wish he could come Below today too, and he'd like nothing more than to come read to you children today, but it just cannot happen today."

Father cleared his throat. "Thank-you, Catherine. Now everybody, Vincent is safe. Let's all go back to our normal routines – I'd like to speak with Catherine alone."

Catherine couldn't help but grimace slightly as everyone let Father's chamber. She knew she was in for a lecture of some kind, and while she loved Father very much, she hated it when he used that tone to say 'I'd like to speak with...'. It _always_ meant a lecture was in order.

"Catherine," Father began as soon as everyone cleared. "I'm sure both of you know that you have both behaved very, very irresponsibly."

Catherine nodded. "Yes, we do, but-"

"No excuses!" Father thundered. "Don't you know what could happen to him if he were caught up there? He'd be killed or locked behind bars, or all these tests would be ran on him and-"

"Father, I understand." Catherine said softly, but firmly. "Vince-"

"No, you do not understand!" Father shouted angrily. "It's dangerous for him to go Above, no matter what time of night it is – and he knows that! He knows I wish for him to stay Below at all times, and yet he still goes Above – to defy me!"

"He doesn't mean to defy you." Catherine soothed him gently. "And I do understand. We both do. He's been captured a couple times Above before, and we both know the minimum of what could be done to him. We just got distracted, but it won't happen again, I know that. How many times in the past ten years has Vincent done something irresponsible?"

Father hesitated. "Well, several times, ac-"

"But they all turned out fine." Catherine interrupted. "Or better than fine – better than better." she quoted Mouse, which made father's frown turn slightly upside-down. "Father, Vincent knows what he's doing, and doesn't often make mistakes. Things will turn out all right, I'm sure of it. Vincent is more responsible and level-headed than anyone else I've ever met. He just messed up a little, like everyone does."

Father sighed. "Are you trying to say I'm being a little too hard on him?"

Catherine laughed. "No disrespect intended, but you are being a lot too hard on him. He is an adult, you know."

Luckily, Father found the humor in the comment and laughed along too. "So what do you two have planned for today?"

"I'm sure it will include both work and play." Catherine assured the elderly man. "We have a lot to discuss."

"Umm, Catherine?" Father asked. "Can you please... define 'play'?"

Catherine couldn't help but roll her eyes a little, but with good humor. "You know, reading, maybe watch a little TV or play Monopoly or something..." her voice trailed. " Things like that. Father, you still aren't angry at me, are you?"

"No, no, dear girl, no." Father said, giving the younger woman an embrace. "I'm not angry at you at all. You and Vincent both had a... misunderstanding, but I forgive you both for it. I can't seem to stay angry at either of you for too long."

Catherine smiled up at him. "Your truly amazing, do you know that?"

Father cleared his throat, a little embarrassed. "Catherine, even though you and Vincent did, er, prove that 'it can be' to a degree, you need to ask yourselves something."

"What is that?"

"You need to ask yourselves 'In light of your past experiences, current circumstances, and future hopes and dreams, what is the wise thing for us to do?'." Father told her. "And though the two of you did, um, 'make love', I would suggest that you should not do it again. No matter how you look at it, Catherine, I was right, it can't be. You are from two different worlds. Your fate is bound to be different than his. And he hurt you. Accidentally, I know, but just the same..."

Catherine sighed. "As far as I know, we weren't planning on doing 'it' again, so thank-you for the advice, but I think we already figured that one out. And I'm not so sure about this whole 'different worlds, different fates' business. You may be right, Father, you may be. But just in case you aren't..." she shook her head. "Let's all keep open minds. Vincent and I are stumbling around in the dark, Father. We don't know what will happen, not any clue, or what we should do. We don't exactly have role-models or examples." Catherine told him earnestly. "We're just trying to love each other, everyone, and everything the best we can, and enjoy life to the fullest, to make each day count. Because we can't guarantee tomorrow." She finished softly.

Father nodded, not quite accepting Catherine's heartfelt speech, but understanding it to some degree anyway. "As you wish, Catherine."

"I should be getting back Above." Catherine excused herself. "Vincent will be getting worried if I'm gone too long."

Father nodded. "Give him my love."

She smiled and nodded. "I'll do that." And with that, she left the world Below.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

_Where is she? _Vincent wondered, pacing back and forth in her apartment. _She left twenty minutes ago – shouldn't she be back by now?_

_She probably got a little turned around, or maybe distracted. _Vincent told himself. _You should not worry so. She took care of herself before you met, and she can do so now. Your just worried because your here, Above, in her apartment, in broad daylight._

And Vincent knew that that was the truth. He was worried half to pieces. Every sound he heard in the entire building made him jump. The closer the sound was to Catherine's apartment, the less jump and more growl he had. But finally he knew where she was, after calming herself down enough to focus on their bond. She was just leaving Father's chamber – she would be home in a few minutes.

Vincent let out a sigh of frustration. How could he have been so reckless, so careless? How could he have _forgotten_ to check the time?

_What is wrong with you? _Vincent asked himself, beginning to pace back and forth in Catherine's living room. _You know that you _must_ keep careful track of the time while you are Above. If they catch me... For now on, no visiting Catherine's apartment after 2:00AM unless its a dire emergency – no exceptions._

Vincent felt Catherine outside the door, and heard her unlocking the lock. But to be on the safe side, and in case someone happened to glance by her apartment just when the door was open, he ducked behind the sofa, so no one could see him.

Once Catherine stepped in and had the door safely shut, he came out from behind the sofa. "What did Father have to say?" he asked her.

"He's very happy your safe – everyone is." Catherine told her. "He's a bit miffed at both of us, I think, but nothing a little hug and apology won't fix." Catherine smiled. "I told him that he's too hard on you."

Vincent raised his eyebrows at that. "And?"

"And he laughed." Catherine told him. "He actually asked me if I thought he was too hard on you, so I just told the truth. Thankfully, he found the humor in it." she smiled softly. "Father's a softie, you know that, Vincent?"

Vincent nodded. "That's one of his moods, yes."

Catherine smiled. "What would you like for breakfast? Oh, and Joe, I've got to call Joe – see if I can take the day off."

"You needn't do that." Vincent protested.

"But I want to." Catherine said with a smile, picking up the phone. "I've had a lot of days off of late – let's hope he doesn't mind."

While Catherine dialed the number and waited for Joe to pick up, Vincent began pacing again, nervously. In truth, did he want Catherine to go to work or not? He wanted to spend all the time he could with her, of course, but all day in her apartment seemed a little too awkward and inappropriate. But yet, he didn't want to spend the whole day with her gone, either. But it looked like that the decision was in the hands of Joe Maxwell, not Vincent or Catherine.

"Hey Joe," Catherine said once Joe picked up his phone. She laughed. "Wake up, sleepy head."

Vincent didn't know what Joe had said, but it made Catherine laughed again. "Suing me wouldn't be the best idea, Joe; I used to be a lawyer and _will _represent myself, don't think I won't."

"Too early in the morning to come up with a wise-crack?" Catherine said next. "So you don't think too clearly in the morning. Good. So can I have the day off?"

There was a pause, and then Catherine repeated. "Can I have the day off?"

"I _know_ I've had way too many days off, Joe, but this is kind of an emergency." she glanced at Vincent, and then her belly. "It's pregnancy related."

"Thanks, Joe – your great, you know that?" she said to him next.

Vincent let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. Okay, so it seemed Catherine had the day off and would be spending her day with him.

"Flattery is always the best policy – I learned that at law school." Catherine laughed again. "Okay Joe, I will. I will. Thanks again, see you tomorrow, 'bye."

She hung up the phone, spun around and squealed with delight. "He said yes!" she exclaimed happily.

Vincent smiled and nodded, happy to see her happy. "That's wonderful, Catherine."

She gave him a big hug. "Now we can spend the whole day together, doing whatever we want to!" she glanced out the French doors, out on the wonderful bustling city of New York. "Well, almost everything we want to." she added, a note of melancholy in her voice.

Vincent wanted to say something, to take the sadness out of her voice, but before he could think of something to say, she spoke up again. "Oh well, ob-la-di, ob-la-da. What do you want for breakfast, Vincent?" she asked, heading over to the kitchen. "I'm going to start up a fresh pot of coffee, unless you'd like some tea. I have milk too, and orange juice." she peered into the refrigerator. "Okay, scratch the orange juice. Coffee, tea, or milk?" she asked him.

Vincent smiled at Catherine, at her wonderful hospitality and love. "Tea is fine, thank-you." he answered.

"Okay, tea." she said, starting a pot of water on the stove and dumping tea bags into it. "And for breakfast we have cold cereal, oatmeal, pancakes, waffles, or pop-tarts, take your pick."

"It does not matter." Vincent told her.

Catherine pulled out the oatmeal. "I'm in a oatmeal kind of mood." she started busily preparing it.

Vincent just stood there, awkwardly. "Is there anything I could do to help?"

"I don't-" Catherine stopped herself, and tried to think of something Vincent could do. She didn't want him to feel useless, awkward, or uncomfortable. She knew he felt awkward already, that using this hands could maybe relieve some of the awkwardness. "The table is a mess." she said at last. "If you could just find a place for things, that'd be great. It doesn't really matter where – just off of the table."

Vincent nodded and set to work. Catherine smiled. She had fallen in love with the absolute greatest man in the world. Sure, he had his flaws, but who didn't?

A few minutes later, they both sat down to eat. Catherine smiled when Vincent hesitated before he sat down in a chair.

"Don't worry." Catherine assured him. "They are strong. Once, a friend and her husband came over to visit, and her husband is at least 300 pounds, and he didn't even break any of the chairs!"

Vincent chuckled awkwardly as he carefully seated himself. They ate the oatmeal in relative silence, an awkward silence. Catherine didn't know what to say, and she had a feeling Vincent didn't either. Nevertheless, they couldn't spend the entire day in the silence – one of them had to speak up first.

"Not much like oatmeal, more like mush." Catherine said, poking around in her oatmeal bowl.

"It tastes just fine." Vincent assured her.

_Great, _Catherine thought. _Back to the awkward silence._

"So, what is going on Below?" Catherine tried again. "Every time I've gone down there lately, I seem to spend all of my time in Father's chamber, discussing baby matters. What's everyone up to?"

Vincent swallowed before he answered. "Perchik has taken a fancy to Arthur, and his now determined to have a raccoon of his own." Perchik was one of the Tunneler's children. At eight, he admired Mouse tremendously. "He tries to go outside every night to capture one, but his father or mother always stop him. I'm suppose I'm responsible – I am the one who told him that raccoons are nocturnal."

Catherine laughed, happy that the silence was broken. "Someone ought to tell him that raccoons aren't tame, that they're wild animals."

Vincent shook his head. "We have tried, but he keeps insisting that 'Arthur's tame!'. We cannot convince him – it seems that he must find out for himself."

"Did you ever have a pet when you were a child?" Catherine asked him.

Vincent hesitated and then nodded. "For a short while. When I was about nine, Devin had found a stray puppy Above. It was 'our special secret'. We never did name the dog – Father found out in a matter of days."

"I had a kitten for awhile." Catherine told him. "His name was Mittens. We used to play and play – he was my substitute for a sibling, I suppose. Anyways, one day he got outside – we couldn't catch him. We found him the next day in our next door neighbor's dog's mouth."

Vincent grimaced. "Have you ever thought about what makes an animal an animal?" he asked her thoughtfully.

"What do you mean?" she asked, puzzled.

"Well, why it is they do not talk, why they do not think the same way we do," Vincent tried to explain. "They act purely on instinct, while humans have the gift of reason. A choice."

Catherine nodded thoughtfully. "That's interesting – sometimes the only thing that separates us from being animals is that we don't rely on instinct – we can make other choices. I've never thought of that before."

"But yet, a child acts on instinct." Vincent said. "A young child has not enough knowledge or past experiences to make a decision – they just act."

"Yet what else makes an animal?" Catherine wondered. "No one will probably ever know."

Vincent nodded, his mind clearly traveling to another subject. "Catherine," he said at last. "What if the baby is a... is not human?" he asked her quickly.

"What do you mean 'not human'?" Catherine asked. "You put a dog and a dog together and you don't get a horse, do you? I'm sure the baby will be a human, Vincent."

Vincent shook his head. "You know that is not what I mean. There is a part of me that is not human, Catherine – we must face that – before the birth of... our child."

Catherine sighed. ""Vincent, you are perfectly human. 100 human. I really hate it when you talk like-"

"Catherine, look at me." Vincent interrupted firmly, but gently.

Catherine looked up, her green eyes meeting Vincent's. Vincent held her chin up as he spoke.

"I don't look normal, Catherine." He said. "You and I know that, along with everyone else in the world who has met me. I look different, different than any other human that has ever existed. I have another nature… a nature that strives to hurt, kill, and destroy. I cannot be all human... I cannot."

"Now you don't know that!" Catherine argued, tears threatening to spill. "It could have been drugs, or some scientific experiment messing with genes or something. It could have been a number of things. 'Animals' don't think and reason to the extent people do, like you do, remember? We just discussed it!"

"The sickness," Vincent reminded her, taking a deep breath. "The madness. Catherine, it all points to-"

"Nobody knows." Catherine said flatly. "You can't go making assumptions without other evidence. No one knows, Vincent. And why all the concern _now_? Why not ten years ago?"

"Because no one was pregnant with my child then." Vincent reminded her.

"Well, it doesn't make any difference!" Catherine exclaimed. "Knowing where you came from where change this child's genes!"

"No, it won't." Vincent said, trying to calm her down. He could feel her emotions rising to an unbearable high for him. As much as he loved Catherine, he could hardly bear the hormonal mood swings. "It won't change it's genes any, you are right. But maybe knowing can help us raise the child, knowing more about the animal, or the drugs, or the experiments..." he almost made himself sick talking about, essentially himself, that way. It was something that was always generally avoided, but now, it couldn't. Vincent felt that it must be discussed.

"I'll love the child regardless of its appearance." Catherine said, angry tears trickling down her face. "Maybe _you_ won't, but I certainly will."

Vincent sighed, knowing that this was Catherine's 'sickness' or 'state of madness', her hormonal mood swings. "I will too," he said to her. "But I'm concerned for the child's physical heath, mental health, and emotional health. There may have never been a child like ours before, and we _must_ be prepared for _anything_. I love this child with all of my life, as much as I love you – and its not even yet born."

"Oh Vincent," Catherine sighed. "As much as you irritate me... your right."

"I am?" Vincent asked, not expecting her sudden change of mood.

"You are." Catherine said. "The child may be a 'daddy's boy' or 'daddy's girl'. He or she may completely take after you, and if it does, we need to be ready – it may have 'the sickness' or have some other complications that you've never had."

Vincent searched their bond, trying to read Catherine's feelings. She seemed happy, perfectly happy, all of a sudden. Her mood had changed in a blink of an eye to an emotional disaster and then, at another blink of an eye, she was perfectly happy again. Vincent shook his head. It sounded like he had his research cut out for him – research on a pregnant woman's mood swings.

"That is just what I mean," Vincent said at last. "Just what I mean. Catherine, I know that you said you don't want to discuss the problems or worry about them too much, but we must. We simply must."

Catherine nodded. "I know – I was just hoping to avoid it as long as possible. So, Vincent, if you came from... I mean, if your existence has anything to do with drugs, how could this affect our baby?"

Vincent knew she was trying to choose her words carefully, as not to hurt his feelings. "If it has to do with drugs, maybe injected into my birth mother or something of the like, then it may not be hereditary. Now, if I am the result of an experiment, my DNA must be altered in such ways, that my - my... traits could be passed on to our child."

"And if you are somehow related to – to an... animal," she spat the word out.

"Then that would be hereditary, as well." Vincent finished.

"How could someone do such a thing?" Catherine wondered out loud.

"Creating different kinds of beings is considered science – good science." Vincent replied. "Many scientists spend so much time wondering if they could, they don't stop and wonder if they _should_. They never consider the fact that the being they create will be a living being, with feelings and emotions. They don't stop to view it that way."

"Do you think your the result of a scientific experiment?" Catherine wanted to know.

Vincent shrugged. "The more I think about it, the more it seems likely."

Catherine found that her oatmeal suddenly didn't taste so good anymore. She stood up and dumped the remains into the trashcan. "Well, if our child develops an interest in science, we'll need to nurture that interest carefully."

"Yes." Vincent agreed as Catherine gathered up his empty bowl and rinsed it out. "Science is a wonderful thing, but should not be taken lightly under many circumstance – it could do a lot of good, but also much damage."

"Vincent," Catherine said, leaning against the kitchen counter. "Talking about your... 'creation', or who you really are, does it- does it bother you?"

Vincent shook his head. "We've discussed it many times in my life, Catherine. Father and I, Devin and I, Mary and I – I have discussed it with everyone I have known for a great length of time, I am sure. Everyone is curious and has no way to find out the answers, like me."

"But does it make you feel awkward, or strange?' Catherine wanted to know. "If it does, I mean, I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"It is a little uncomfortable feeling sometimes, yes." Vincent admitted. "I am not ashamed of being different – the uncomfortable feeling comes from knowing that I did not wind up where I was found by accident – someone had to put me there."

"But you would think," Catherine began thinking. "If there was some kind of scientific experiment that made you the way you are, they wouldn't have-"

"Thrown me out, so to speak." Vincent finished. Even though their conversation was serious, he couldn't help but throw a little bit of lightness in it.

"Exactly." Catherine said. "And no matter how you were born, concept, or created, you were put outside the hospital. Maybe your mother – or someone _wanted_ you to be found. If they didn't want you to be found... well, lets not think of what they would have done."

Vincent looked thoughtful. "I have never considered that before. Perhaps..." his voice trailed.

"Perhaps what?" Catherine asked. She then realized that he might not want to share his thoughts. "Oh, never mind. You don't have to tell me."

"No, no, it's all right." Vincent said. "I just thought of a possibility that I have never thought of – suppose I was born at St. Vincents Hospital, the doctor may have seen me-"

Catherine felt rather ashamed feelings through the bond, and interrupted him. "I think I understand what you are saying." she said. "Don't feel bad, Vincent."

Vincent gave Catherine a very faint smile. "It may sound funny, but I never regretted what I am, until the moment I met you."

"Don't feel that way because of me!" Catherine pleaded. "I wouldn't have you any other way – remember that."

Vincent nodded as his response. He could feel her love through their bond, though he couldn't understand it. It seemed he didn't understand most of Catherine's emotions of late. He also didn't want their full day together, just her and him, to be a pity party for him. No, that was the _last_ thing he wanted.

He cleared his throat, awkwardly. "Well, now that we have discussed our child's... appearance and other traits, we need to finalize his or her home."

Catherine sighed. "I wish I could move Below with you – that'd make things so much easier."

Vincent didn't dare tell her that he wished the same, or that he could come live Above with her. No, that would be hardly appropriate, and while he fully believed that sometimes wishes could come true, he had his doubts about those particular wishes – his biggest wishes.

"Vincent," Catherine said. "I don't want this child to be like many children – spending half of its time at it's mom's and the other half at dad's. Or going to the father's house every weekend, and spending the rest of the time with the mom, never seeing the two of them together. I want our child to grow up and have a relationship with two parents – the way we never did."

Vincent nodded, knowing exactly what she meant. Catherine's mother had died when she was very young, and Father's wife Margaret got a divorce shortly before Father moved Below, and then his "girlfriend", so to speak, died in childbirth, giving birth to Devin. Both Vincent and Catherine had grown up without a mother, without two parents, and did not want that for their baby.

"I feel like Below would be a better... environment for the baby." Catherine continued. "Above, it seems that children grow up too fast; they seen pornography on the TV by the time they are four, they know all the rude jokes by six, and then, when they turn eight, you find out that they are already aware of 'the birds and the bees', and when they are ten, poof! You find out that they are 'dating' a fifth grade classmate!"

Vincent couldn't help but chuckle at Catherine, who was getting all worked up at the prospect of her and Vincent's child turning out like the average child Above.

"And then, at thirteen, the girls start asking for birth control. And then, if you don't give it to them, by the time they are seventeen, they've had at least two kids! And the boys, well, they have AIDS by the time they are sixteen! And of course, they become grandparents in their thirties, their kids repeating the cycle. And then-"

"Catherine, calm down." Vincent attempted to sooth her before she got more worked up. The last thing he needed was for her to have _another_ emotional disaster that he'd have to go through. "I _know_ what goes on with children Above. I know it's not pretty. That's why we're proud of our children Below."

Catherine smiled, her face slightly red, embarrassed from getting so worked up over what started out as something small. "Sorry, Vincent. I guess I just got a little excited. I'm sorry."

"As you were saying, Below would be a better environment..." Vincent got her back on topic.

"Yes, it would." Catherine said. "The children there are so well behaved, have a better education than any other child Above, they are surrounded by so much more love and affection, they have plenty of playmates – and we wouldn't have to worry who our child plays with, there is plenty of room, the list is endless." she smiled up at Vincent. "And they grow up to be fine adults."

"Well," Vincent said, humorously. "Devin turned out to be a fine... define 'fine adult'."

Catherine gave Vincent a little swat. "Your brother is a perfectly fine, grown-up, responsible, attractive man." She said. "Almost responsible, anyways."

"He's working on it." Vincent agreed. "I can't wait to tell the look on his face when we tell him about the baby."

"When is the next time he's coming Below?" Catherine asked.

Vincent shrugged. "He never lets us know. He always shows up unexpected."

"He's only shown up twice since I've known you." Catherine said. "Once when he got that job over at the DA's, remember?"

"'I'm a con, but I'm a good con'." Vincent quoted. "Then he showed up again with Charles – _that_ was an ordeal."

"You were so good with Charles." Catherine said, giving Vincent a squeeze on the arm. "The way you accepted him was just... unbelievable. No one else can just look at Charles for the first time and just treat him perfectly normal. But you... you treated him normally from the beginning."

"And he treated me normally from the beginning." Vincent reminded her. "No one else can just look at me for the first time and treat me perfectly normal, can they?"

"The entire world should treat you and Charles equally." Catherine huffed. "This world Above – I hate this world! Everyone says 'free and equal' but when it comes down to it, no one is free and no one is equal. People are bound by their looks, or their culture, or their ancestors – that's not free."

"And while everyone should be equal, we're not." Vincent said slowly. "Nobody is treated equally Above, but its just the way that your world works."

"I'm so fed up with living here." Catherine said, plopping down on the couch. "I _know_ I'm doing a lot of good up here, but sometimes its so _hard_! Talking with rape victims, people who have had everything taken away from them, children whose parents beat them – its so hard to live like this!"

"But look at all the people you helped." Vincent said gently. "Ellie and Erik, for example. Ellie spent her last months Below with her brother, never happier, and Erik, while he misses his sister, he will continue to live a happy life Below. He could never repay you for being so helpful – never. He talks of you so the time. He's so grateful. And there are only two examples – you've ultimately helped hundreds of people."

Catherine smiled. "Thanks, Vincent. I needed that."

Vincent smiled back. "Your welcome."

"What time is it?" Catherine wanted to know.

"7:30 A.M." Vincent replied, looking over at the clock on the wall.

Catherine sighed. "Okay, what do you want to do?"

"Whatever you want." he said. "There is no need to entertain me."

She pulled _Great Expectations_ off her shelf. "Remember the first time we read this together?"

Vincent smiled and nodded, sitting next to her on the couch. "It was when we first met. I asked you if you wanted me to read to you."

"I said that it wouldn't help." Catherine said. "Until I heard you read for the first time – you read beautifully."

Vincent blushed slightly. "Would you care to be read to right now?"

Catherine nodded. "I'd like that."

So that's how they spent their morning, snuggled together on the couch, reading out loud from _Great Expectations_.


	10. Chapter 10

10  
**Authors Note: Vincent is sooo out of character during the chapter, I think. Let me know what you think, and what I can do to make it better – thanks! Also, this story technically takes the place of the 3****rd**** season. And even though Edie didn't appear in the 2****nd**** season, I revived her in this story, her being such a terrific character. I mean, who doesn't like Edie? (And for those of you unfamiliar with Edie, it's pronounced Ee-dee.)**

"I've heard that Mozart was treated the same way." Catherine recalled. "He wrote his first piece at age five, so people were convinced he was some kind of freak or something – they were too afraid to look past it, so instead, the made fun of him."

Vincent nodded. "His abilities made him different, an alien." he shook his head, trying to comprehend. "Music is such a beautiful thing, and what Mozart wrote was... astounding. And yet he was shunned for it, just because he wrote it when he was at a younger age than most."

"Have you ever tried your hand at music?" Catherine asked Vincent.

He shrugged. "I've put some things together in my mind, here and there, throughout the years. I have messed around with the piano Mouse once smuggled Below..."

"And?" Catherine prodded.

"No, I have not written anything." Vincent admitted. "You press a key on the piano and hear one sound; it makes you truly wonder how people have put together great symphonies, how so few keys can make so many different songs."

"I had piano lessons for about three years," Catherine said with a laugh. "I never got off the beginner's book."

"And what happened?"

"We eventually got rid of the piano." Catherine said. "I don't remember why, but it probably had something to do with too little space in the living room for something I was never using!"

Vincent nodded. "So have you?"

"Have I what?"

"Have you attempted to compose music?" Vincent wanted to know.

Catherine laughed. "Me? Oh, no, never. I tried for three years to play _My Darling Clementine_ and never succeeded. I could never write a song. I guess I'm just not musically inclined."

"Well, you certainly have interesting tastes," Vincent said, picking up the record off the record player that she was listening too earlier. "Billy Joel?"

"Would you prefer a records by _Wings_?" Catherine asked, laughing. "Or is Bruce Springsteen more your style?"

"How about Beethoven?" Vincent peered into her records.

Catherine grimaced. "I was afraid you'd want that one – it wore out."

"Well, how about-" he was interrupted by the phone ringing.

Catherine sighed. "Hold on a minute, please, Vincent." she walked over to the phone and picked it up. "Cathy Chandler?"

"Hey, Catherine!" Meg's voice came over the phone.

"Oh, hey Meg – what's up?" Catherine asked her.

"Well, Mike's getting a week off soon, and I got to thinking," Meg said. "Are you busy next week?"

"Next week," Catherine mused. "I've got work, and if I take more time off, Joe might kill me, but what's up?"

"Well, I was thinking that maybe Mike could take his week off when your schedule was relatively clear, and maybe I could come over to New York for a couple days, to spend time together."

"That would be-" Catherine exclaimed, then remembering Vincent was in the room. "That would be so much fun!" she finished coyly. "And then you can meet 'my special guy'." Catherine turned Meg on speaker phone so Vincent could hear Meg too. "It's Meg." she whispered to Vincent.

"Are you still there?" Meg asked.

"Yes, I'm still here." Catherine said. "So, yeah, that sounds fun. The only problem is that I took about three or four days off this week, so Joe probably wouldn't let me off for awhile."

"The baby?" Meg asked excitedly. "You took off because of the baby, didn't you?"

"Yep." Catherine said. "And do you know what Joe said when I told him I was pregnant; '_Mazeltov_ Cathy, now get to work'."

"Men," Meg groaned. "Hey, Joe isn't your 'special guy' is he?"

"No!" Catherine replied, giggling. "No! Definitely not Joe." she looked over at Vincent, who was smiling, enjoying listening to Catherine's conversation.

"C'mon, Catherine, we tell each other everything." Meg said. "Who is he? And why is he such a secret?"

"Well..." Catherine said, looking over at Vincent, who shook his head. "Hold on a minute."

Catherine pulled Vincent away from the speaker, and stood up on her toes to whisper in his ear. "I won't tell her much, just your name and sparse details like that – it'll make you less of a shock when she comes."

Vincent nodded, giving his consent, and they both went back over to the phone. "Hey, Meg, I'm back." Catherine said. "What were we just talking about?"

"Catherine, are you busy?" Meg asked uncertainly.

"No; why?"

"Because you keep putting me on hold. If your busy, I'll just call you back later."

"No, no." Catherine said. "No, I'm not busy. Now, my 'special guy'. Hmmm... what should I tell you?"

"Details, I need details!" Meg begged. "Come on, Catherine, this is your first romance in _forever_!"

"Tom Gunther was only two or three years ago." Catherine retorted.

"And you weren't too into him, remember?" Meg reminded her cousin. "It's been practically forever. Where did you two meet?"

"As I said," Catherine said slowly. "In New York."

Meg sighed. "Why are you being so secretive?"

"In Central Park." Catherine added. That was sort of true, right? "His, er, name is Vincent. He's thirty-seven, he's... really sweet, really smart-"

"But a geek by no means." Meg added. "_Please_ tell me I'm right, please!"

"He _definitely_ not a geek." Catherine added, stifling a laugh. "As a matter of fact, would you like to talk to him?"

Vincent shook his head in protest, but caved in after Meg spoke. "Yes! Yes! Is he there?"

"He sure is," Catherine said with a smile. "Vincent, say something?"

Vincent shook his head, his eyes begging. "It's okay." Catherine whispered. "Just make small talk – her knowing you first will help when she meets you. Just speak – she'll be able to hear you."

Vincent awkwardly cleared his throat. "Hello Meg."

"Hey Vincent." Meg's voice came over the phone. "It's nice to finally speak to you."

"I-I've heard a lot about you." Vincent said. "Catherine says you two are very close."

"Like sisters." Meg said. "So, Vincent, what's your story? Why are you such a big secret?"

"What did you say?" Vincent stalled for time.

"Why does Catherine keep you and her relationship such a secret?" Meg wanted to know. "I don't mean to be nosy or anything, but..."

"No its perfectly all right." Vincent assured her. "I have been curious about my brother Devin's romantic life once or twice as well."

"So you have a brother." Meg said. "That's cool."

"We're adopted brothers, yes." Vincent said. "Do you have any siblings?"

"Yeah, I have a brother named Ryan, and my husband, Mike." she said. "So, how long have you and Catherine been dating?"

"Dating." Vincent repeated. "Umm... we've known each other for about three years now... we've been seeing each other for," he glanced over at Catherine who nodded. "For about that long."

"Love at first sight, eh?" Meg asked.

"Well, no, not exactly." Vincent told the truth. After all, Catherine threw glass at him! "Well, I suppose I'll let Catherine back on now..."

"We're on speaker phone." Catherine said quickly. "We can all talk. So, Meg, how is Cameryn? Are you sure about her autism yet?"

"No, not yet." Meg replied. "We're just going to keep a close eye on her until she gets older, until we can tell for sure."

"Isn't there some kind of diagnosis?" Catherine asked.

"Yes, there is, but if we got her officially diagnosed, then there would be a lot of complicated things to do." Meg explained. "Just keep praying for her."

"We will." Catherine said. "We both will."

"Meg, what do you do for a career?" Vincent asked curiously.

"A stay-at-home mom, for the most part." Meg laughed. "Catherine tells me that you teach English and literature, that you're a tutor."

"Yes, I suppose that is what I do." Vincent said. "I do a little bit of everything, I suppose."

"How are Bailee and Mike?" Catherine tried to change the subject.

"They are good." Meg said. "Look, Catherine, I've got to go. Talk to you both later?"

"Sure." Catherine said. "Hey, can Mike take off not this coming week, but the week after that?"

"I think so." Meg said. "Do you think you'll be able to take then off?"

"I think if I work hard enough, flatter Joe enough, and then beg enough, I may get a week off." Catherine said. "I've asked for so little time off since I've worked with the DA that Joe probably will pull a few strings for me."

"All right, so I'll see the two of you in two weeks, hopefully!" Meg said. "'Bye!"

"Goodbye." Catherine and Vincent said together before Meg hung up.

"So, what do you think of her?" Catherine asked Vincent.

"She's nice." Vincent said. "She seems very concerned about you and your romantic life."

"I've made a lot of bad choices in men before." Catherine laughed. "She's always had the better judgment; she just wants to make sure your the right guy for me. I think she sounded pretty satisfied with you though. You know, you told her more about yourself than I expected."

"The more she knows about me, the better our meeting will be." Vincent said. "I didn't say much, just that I was adopted and-"

"And that it wasn't 'love at first sight'. Catherine interrupted. "Any minute know she'll relay the conversation in her head and wonder 'what'd he mean by that?'."

"It will give her an idea that maybe I'm not normal." he said gently. "Lower her expectations some. I'm afraid her expectations are too high for me to reach, that they are out of my grasp."

"No, they aren't." Catherine said firmly. "Meg looks in the inside, not the outside. Take her husband Mike for example; he was dealt one of the worst hands in the looks department, says so him. His nose doesn't fit his mouth; forehead doesn't fit his cheeks..."

"Catherine, that is not very kind." Vincent reminded her.

"I'm quoting him!" Catherine explained. "And he was quoting an actor. He looks kind of like the actor, Ron Perlman. Do you know who he is?"

Vincent shook his head. "I can't say that I do."

"Well, Perlman spends half of his career absolutely _covered_ in makeup," Catherine told him. "Don't worry about what Meg thinks of your looks – if she can look past a not-so-handsome man, she can look past you."

"Father thinks it is a good idea for Meg to know of the Tunnels." Vincent changed the subject a tad bit. "He thinks she can be of help during the delivery, and certainly show a lot of support for you – for both of us."

Catherine nodded. "And best of all, she can help me keep it a secret. Help support whatever lie I'm going to have to tell whoever I know; who my 'special guy' is and all of those details, and eventually, 'what does the baby look like' or 'where is the baby'. Meg will keep the secret, I promise."

"And what of her husband and children?" Vincent asked. "Once, we had a Helper named Carson. He kept the Tunnels a secret from his wife, children, family, and it eventually cost him everything – his job, his home, his family – we mustn't let that happen to your cousin."

"And it won't." Catherine said. "Meg will tell Mike... eventually. And the children can slowly ease into it – they are good kids and won't speak a word of it if they are told not to."

"At least the youngest won't." Vincent referred to Cameryn. "Autistic children often times have a delay in speech."

"Cameryn is talking more, I think." Catherine said. "Autistic or not, she will keep our secret."

Vincent nodded. "We have agreed then, the child will live Below?"

Catherine sighed and nodded. "It's for the best."

"As an infant it should go home with you for the night," Vincent suggested. "Give you two 'bonding time'."

Vincent had already explained his and Father's suspicions about the baby being the person Vincent was sensing, so Catherine smiled. "It seems at though the two of you have had enough bonding time," she laughed. "But no, I can't take the child Above every evening – I'd feel safer knowing he or she was Below. I'll be spending every moment I'm not at work Below though, so the child will know me well, I hope."

"On the weekends, when you do not work, you may be able to live Below." Vincent suggested. "You can sleep in the baby's chamber."

"The baby will sleep all alone in a chamber during infancy?" Catherine asked, shocked. "That doesn't sound right! It needs to be warm, nurtured, protected – if not in the bed with the parents, in a crib only steps away!" Catherine blushed slightly, realizing she had said 'bed with the parents'. "I mean, typically, in a typical relationship 'in bed with the parents'. I didn't mean you and I because-"

Vincent held up his hand, signaling her to stop. "I know what you are saying, Catherine. I understand. And no, we don't want the baby too far from the parents at night – it needs to be in the same chamber." He suddenly realized that he had made it sound like the parents shared a chamber, so he tried to cover it up. "I meant to say was, that the baby needs to be in the same chamber as one of the parents, as to-"

"I understand." Catherine interrupted. "But taking the baby Above every night seems risky."

"It does." Vincent agreed. "I suppose, even though its not normal... its not tradition... the baby can sleep in my chamber."

"Until the weekend." Catherine retorted teasingly. "Then the baby is _mine_."

"Does this mean I will not get to spend my weekend with our child?" Vincent asked, mock possessively.

"You'll have him or her all week." Catherine said. "It's my turn – _our_ turn - on the weekends."

"And when the baby is older, say three or four, he moves into his own chamber, or the nursery at least." Vincent said.

"And, if Father agrees, I'll be sharing the chamber with it on the weekends." Catherine stated. "Argh! I hate calling the baby 'it'. But consistently saying 'him or her' or 'he or she' gets old, you know?"

Vincent nodded. "But can you think of something else to call it- him or her?"

"We could just try referring to he or she has 'baby'." Catherine suggested. "Or maybe 'it' won't scar the baby so bad – we'd better stick with 'it' until we find out."

"Are we going to find out?" Vincent asked.

"It depends." Catherine said thoughtfully. "Father or Dr. Peter will be my doctor for the time being, so in case something shows up that relatively unusual, they will be able to take care of it. And once they find out, keeping it a secret will be impossible for them, I know it."

"But then again," Catherine continued. "I probably won't have many ultrasounds done, if any of all – that's considered a luxury Below, isn't it?" she added teasingly.

"I think it is considered to be quite a rarity, yes." Vincent went along with her joke.

All of a sudden, the phone rang. "Again?" Catherine cried out. She picked up the phone. "Hello, Cathy Chandler."

"Yo, Radcliffe, I'm sorry about your day off, really, truly, I am, but we need you right away. New case, right up your alley." It was Joe, the last person Catherine wanted to call.

"Joe!" Catherine whined. "I know I've been taking a lot of time off, but do I need to have _this_ case _now_?"

"Oh, yes." Joe said. "A pregnant woman was just found dead in her apartment, right down the street from Edie."

Catherine felt her stomach turn. "A pregnant woman, you say?"

"Yes, she was five months pregnant. Police-" Joe stopped. "Oh, sorry Cathy, I-I forgot about you being, er, pregnant. I completely forgot. Look, I'm sorry. I'll try to find someone else to take the case."

"Oh, no. I'm up to it." Catherine said.

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely." Catherine said. "I'll be at the office in, lets say, an hour?"

"All right, Cathy; you have _one_ hour. Catch you later."

"'Bye Joe." Catherine said, hanging up the phone. She turned to Vincent. "I'm sorry, Vincent, but-"

"You must go." Vincent urged her.

"I haven't even had a chance to explain what happened." Catherine asked, puzzled.

"A pregnant woman was either injured, murdered, or something of the like." Vincent said.

"How did you know?"

"You always get a certain feeling in the pit of your stomach when something like that happens." Vincent said simply. "Go – I will be fine."

"Okay." Catherine said, a little surprised at Vincent's taking charge. "There's, um, leftovers in the fridge for lunch, or we have sandwich stuff – you'd better go with the sandwich stuff, so you don't have to heat anything up." she grabbed her purse. "Um, if the phone rings, just let the answering machine pick it up. If its me, just pick up the receiver and say 'hello' – its real easy. Help yourself to any books, the TV, records or cassettes, anything in the refrigerator-"

"I'll be fine, just fine." Vincent assured her.

"I should be back at about six or seven." Catherine said. "I'll bring food home for supper. And as tempting as it may be, Vincent, stay away from the windows. We can't risk you being seen, especially when I'm not home. Oh Father would never forgive me if-"

"Catherine, Catherine, calm down." Vincent attempted to clam her down, her emotions going crazy again. "I will be fine. I appreciate your concern, but I will be fine."

"Oh, Vincent," Catherine said, burying her head in his chest. "I know you'll be fine. I'm just such a mess!"

"You are just fine, just fine." Vincent assured her. "Juliet had emotions too."

"Oh, so now I'm Juliet?" Catherine smiled up at Vincent. "I hope that makes you Romeo – we'd be the most romantic couple of the 80's."

Vincent nodded towards the door. "You must go."

"oh, right." Catherine started for the door. "Love you, be safe, 'bye." And with that, she left.

Vincent groaned, all of her emotions whirling inside him. That was one thing that made Romeo a very fortunate man – he didn't feel all of Juliet's feminine emotions. Not that Vincent minded feeling Catherine's emotions all the time. True, it drove him crazy, but it always reminded him of his love, and of the woman who loved him for him, not judging what was on the outside. And even when she did judge the outside, she still only seemed to see beauty. Vincent shook his head. As much as he could read, as much as he could learn, he would never figure out a woman's heart – never, ever, ever.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"Karen Jones was a young girl," Edie told Catherine, wiping away a tear. "She could have only been about twenty. She lived two doors down from me in the apartment building. Now, I don't know for sure, but I think it was her boyfriend who done killed her."

"Edie, who was the boyfriend?" Catherine gently asked her friend.

"I don't know," Edie said. "I never met him. I saw him once. He was tall, black, had an earring..."

Catherine sighed. "C'mon Edie, don't you remember anything unusual?"

Edie shook her head. "Like I said, never met him." she looked up at Catherine. "Why are you doing this case? Ain't you in delicate enough condition? I thought Joe would be loading you down on paperwork for the next year!"

Catherine smiled. "Actually, I think he will be. This is probably my last big case until the baby's born."

"'And who's the daddy, anyways?" Edie asked.

"We're supposed to be working on a case, not discussing my romantic life." Catherine reminded her friend.

"C'mon girl, your always so single, never dating, and all of a sudden boom! Your pregnant! There's gotta be a story behind that." Edie said.

"We'll discuss it later." Catherine said. "Ty to run checks on men who match your description of Karen Jones' boyfriend – lets find out who that guy is."

As Catherine walked back towards her desk, she felt a feeling of homesickness, with a touch of boredom. _Vincent, _she thought with a smile. _He must be so bored and lonely in that apartment all alone. Maybe he'll find something to do – maybe he can prepare for an English or literature lesson with one of my books. That's it!_

She quickly dialed her own phone number, finding it strange to do so. After all, who calls their _own_ number?

After the fourth ring, she heard her own voice. _This is Catherine Chandler and I'm out right now. We all know what these things are for, so just do your thing and I'll call you back._

"Hey, Vincent?" Catherine said. "It's me – pick up the phone."

After a few moments she heard the receiver pick up. "Are you listening?" Catherine asked.

"Yes." Vincent sounded somewhat awkward.

"I'm sorry I had to leave you there all alone!" Catherine apologized. "This case is really important and-"

"I understand." Vincent said.

"Um, I had an idea." Catherine said. "Maybe you could pass the time by preparing for a literature lesson or something. I have lots of books on my bookshelf and paper and a pen shouldn't be too hard to find..."

"Thank-you, Catherine." Vincent said. "Is there anything else you'd like to tell me?"

"What?" Catherine said taken aback. "No – why?"

"You must have had another reason to call – what is it?"

Catherine sighed. "I just miss you, is all. This woman – girl actually, who was murdered, Edie thinks the girl's boyfriend knows something about it. I was just thinking about how lucky I was to have you, and then I felt your homesickness, and..." her voice trailed. "My life has been so good ever since you found me."

"Your life has changed in many ways," Vincent agreed. "For the better in most ways, I hope. My life has changed as well – your presence has changed everyone's lives Below. Your a blessing, Catherine."

She smiled. "Thanks – that's what I needed to hear. I guess I'll go. Love you, be safe, 'bye." And with that, she hung up, missing Vincent's voice the minute she did.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"Vincent, I'm back." Catherine said, going entering her apartment. "Vincent, where are you?"

"Over here." Vincent called, peeking through the curtains of her French doors.

"What are you doing?" She asked, him nearing him.

"The sun is setting." Vincent said, continuing to peek out the doors. "Isn't it beautiful?"

"It's lovely." Catherine agreed, peeking out from another section.

"It's so amazing how there can be a ball of fire in space." Vincent thought out loud. "It is large, yet it never falls. It is always there, though we cannot always see it. All around us, everywhere, is darkness, just darkness. There is no light whatsoever. Without the sun being our lamp, we'd all be blind."

"Wow," Catherine said. "I never thought about it that way. Technically all around me is darkness."

"Yes." Vincent answered, the sun disappearing behind the horizon on New York.

"Imagine if the sun didn't come up tomorrow." Catherine said. "What would happen?"

"In a short time the temperatures would drop hundreds of degrees below zero. Within days all the plants would begin to die." Vincent said, pulling away from the French doors. "And once the plants died, there wouldn't be enough oxygen for people – the entire world would suffocate, they would die."

"And if the sun was out twenty-four hours a day, instead of twelve," Catherine said slowly. "All the grass and plants would dry up and die, and the same thing would happen – people would die.. Isn't that crazy, Vincent? Someone designed the earth to be dark for a certain amount of time and light for a certain amount of time – things like that don't happen accidentally. Our world must have a creator."

"Mm-Hmmm." Vincent agreed. "It is quite remarkable, isn't it?"

"Do you think..." Catherine's voice trailed.

"What is it?" Vincent prodded her to continue.

"That you were born to perfectly normal parents?" Catherine asked. "That maybe someone, somewhere, who is in charge of such things, decided to have you be born to certain parents, on a certain day, at a certain place? No one is created by accident, right?"

Vincent nodded. "It is possible. No, I don't believe people are created by accident. I will never forget that dream I had that once, the one I told you about?"

Catherine nodded. "Yes – the _It's a Wonderful Life_ dream – the dream you had showing what it would be like if you were never born."

"I'm not sure if that is what people's lives would really be like, but it makes be appreciate my life, and everyone's life, much more." Vincent said. "If one person on this globe had never been born, the world might be different, completely different."

"If Hitler hadn't ever lived, what would the world be like?" Catherine wondered out loud. "Or the Pope?"

"Or Paracelsus." Vincent groaned.

"The world Below would not exist if not for Paracelsus," Catherine reminded him.

"Speaking of Below, what time is it?" Vincent looked over at the clock. "Seven o'clock. I suppose the best time to go home is after ten?"

Catherine nodded. "At about nine or ten o'clock would be a fine time. Right now everyone is still out and about." She sat a box of pizza on the table. "Would you like some pizza?"

Vincent shook his head. "No, but I thank you just the same."

Catherine nodded, taking a slice out of the box for herself. "What are you thinking about?"

"You." Vincent answered honestly.

"Me?" Catherine asked. "Your thinking about me?"

Vincent nodded. "Catherine, I am worried about you. The baby – I am afraid of what will happen to you during the rest of the pregnancy and the delivery." he said the last part with great difficulty, still not overly comfortable discussing such matters out loud.

"Vincent, I thought we already covered the dangers we might suspect." Catherine said. "Paracelsus was just trying to get on your last nerve when he told you all of that stuff about your birth. Fingernails get soft when they are wet, and the womb is a wet place, I hear. No one could claw their way out of the womb – its impossible."

"It is not only that." Vincent said. "There are many dangers in bearing children that have nothing to do with this particular pregnancy. Devin's mother... died in childbirth – several woman Below have since I've been alive. Many children are stillborn, many women are forever weak after giving birth. Tell me, Catherine, if you ever have the slightest feeling that something is wrong."

She nodded. "I'm not all that scared, but I think I'll get more as time goes on. My emotions have been crazy lately…" she glanced up at him. "Wait a minute, you feel all of my feelings, don't you?"

Vincent nodded. "Father found it rather hilarious."

A giggle escaped Catherine's throat. "Oh, Vincent!" she said, nearing him. "I'm so sorry! I don't mean to put you through..." she searched for the words.

"Emotional exhaustion, turmoil?" Vincent supplied.

Catherine nodded, again giggling. "I'm so sorry."

Vincent held his arms out. "I still do not see what is so funny."

Catherine's giggles escaped into a laugh as she gave him a hug. "Oh, how do you put up with me?"

_I was wondering the same thing, _Vincent thought as he stroked her hair. _How do you put up with me?_

But the answers to that question really didn't matter just then. What mattered is that they were both happy, and they knew that they would only get happier.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"It just doesn't make any sense!" Lincoln, a fifteen-year-old boy who lived Below exclaimed the next day.

"What does not make sense?" Vincent patiently asked the young boy. He was trying to teach some of the older children literature, using _Romeo and Juliet_. All of the other children loved it, except for Lincoln, who just didn't seem to understand.

"The part we just read!" Lincoln said. "The part I've been complaining about for weeks! Why did it happen that way, Vincent?"

Vincent sighed. "Lincoln, I don't know _why_ Romeo did not check Juliet's pulse before he killed himself. But that is not the point."

"Then what is?" Lincoln wanted to know. "Romeo and Juliet are both so weak, so lame. If I loved a girl, and if she loved me" he eyed young Maria across the room, who stuck her tongue out in distaste. "And our parent's didn't allow us to get married," Lincoln continued. "We'd elope, and get married anyways! By the time our parent's found out, we'd be halfway to Paris, Budapest, and Rome for our honeymoon!"

Vincent chuckled at the young boy's seriousness. "Paris, Budapest, and Rome, eh? Sounds like the perfect honeymoon."

"Are you and Catherine going there for your honeymoon?" Eleven-year-old Maria asked innocently.

"Are you crazy?" Sixteen-year-old Thomas asked Maria. "He'd never make it down Fifth Avenue alive – 'Kill him!' they'd say."

Vincent smiled a bit at Maria's being naive, while ignoring Thomas' comments. "We will dream about it, Maria." he told her.

"Since she's having a baby, are you two going to get married?" Susan, another girl from Below, questioned.

Vincent cleared his throat awkwardly, while simultaneously stalling for time. It was something that weighed heavily on his mind, but wasn't something he was ready to speak to the children about yet. "We'll think on it." he said. "Now back to Romeo and Juliet."

"If you thought Catherine was dead, you'd check her pulse before you killed yourself, wouldn't ya?" Lincoln wanted to know.

"He wouldn't be as stupid as Romeo, would you, Vincent?" Thomas said.

"Ssh!" Susan tried to hush them.

"Vincent, would you kill yourself?" Maria wanted to know, her eyes filling with worry.

"Shakespeare knew everything." Fifteen-year-old Penelope said. "Catherine said that Vincent said, right?"

Vincent sighed. "Yes, no, no, yes." he answered all of their questions. "Don't worry," he said, looking into Maria's troubled brown eyes. "I'll always be here for you."

"Forever and ever?" she asked happily.

He chuckled. "For a long time."

"You wouldn't be so miserable that your love died that you wouldn't kill yourself to be with her?" Penelope asked. "How unromantic."

"He's just not self-centered." Susan told Penelope accusingly. "He loves us too, you know. And Father. And Mary. And Mouse. And-"

"Don't forget Jamie, William, Kanin, Olivia, and Luke!" Lincoln piped up.

"And Kipper, Samantha, and the rest of the children." Thomas reminded them.

"And don't forget-" Lincoln was interrupted by Vincent.

"Enough talk of Catherine and me." Vincent said. "Let's get back to _Romeo and_- no, we'll do _Macbeth_ instead." _The less romance in the play right now, the better, _he added to himself. _Children never cease to be curious, and never fail to learn the word 'tact'. But that's part of the beauty of children – their innocence and curiosity. How do we lose it as we get older?_

"Vincent," Maria tugged on his shirt sleeve. "Aren't we going to read?"

"I'm sorry." Vincent apologized, getting back into play. "I just got a little distracted, forgive me."

"Thinking about his _loooove_." Lincoln said softly with a quiet laugh, nudging Susan who couldn't help but giggle. But it didn't matter how softly Lincoln spoke – Vincent had very keen hearing and could hear sounds that nobody else could hear, so he could hear what Lincoln said as clear as anything.

Vincent raised his eyebrows. "It seems we are _all_ a bit distracted today." he said. "Let us stop for the day – we'll finish tomorrow."

The children quickly scurried out of the chamber, save Maria, who came back over to Vincent. "Vincent, was what they said true?"

Vincent knelt down to the young girl's height. "Is what true, Maria?"

"T-that you or Catherine could die," the girl blurted out.

Vincent nodded. "Anyone could die, Maria –and will. No one knows when. But Catherine and I, neither one of us, would end our lives on purpose."

The girl's eyes looked a little less troubled. "Promise?"

Vincent nodded. "Never, ever – that's a promise." And with that, he scooped her up and carried her out the chamber.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"She came Below two years ago, when she was nine." Vincent told Catherine. It was later that night, and they were up on Catherine's balcony, discussing the day's events – and events to come.

"She's such a pretty, happy little girl." Catherine said with a smile. They were talking of Maria.

Vincent nodded, thinking of the girl's smile that usually shone consistently. "She has had a rough life. Her parents both committed suicide, and a foster parent molested her soon after. Had she not come Below, her life could be very… different than it is today."

"Living Below has changed her life in many ways." Catherine said. "Your entire world seems to change everyone who comes in contact with it. It certainly changed me." She smiled up at him.

"She really looks up to you, you know?" Catherine continued. "And I don't blame her – if anyone in the world could be trusted, it's you."

Vincent sighed. "Children – why must they stop being children before it is their time? Their innocence, the beauty, of being a child…"

"They are wonderful, children." Catherine agreed. "Maria is a lovely little girl, and any progress she's made since she first came Below is because of you, you know that?"

Vincent nodded. "I don't understand that. She does not take to Father, Mary, or anyone else Below. She only seems to trust me."

"She hasn't got a father." Catherine interjected. "And you are probably her ideal – that's probably why she likes you the best. I just hope she doesn't get overly jealous when… when the baby comes. Vincent," she began.

He looked at her in the eyes. "Yes?"

"When the baby comes." She said. "Vincent, I just don't know…"

"Don't know what, Catherine."

"If I'm ready to be a mother yet." She laughed a bit self-consciously. "I know it sounds crazy – I've dreamed of having children my entire life, but…"

"But you didn't expect it to happen this way." Vincent read her thoughts.

She nodded, trying to block the tears that came to her eyes. "I- I just always imagined it… different. I mean, having been married a couple years, having done all the traveling I want to. Not that I have any regrets." She quickly added. "But I just don't feel _ready_. I don't remember much of my mother –what am I supposed to do? Bake cookies all day and wear an apron?"

Vincent shook his head. "I do not feel ready for the responsibilities I will have to take on either. But I will share with you what I know; that there is a truth, beyond knowledge. Everything you could ever hope to know. And that truth is love. Love has no limits, no boundaries, and as long as you never cease to show it, it will make anyone happy, until the end of their days."

Catherine smiled, knowing that he had gotten the 'there is a truth beyond knowledge' quote from Father, and that he was thinking of him while talking of the limitless love. That was what Father had shown to Vincent through Vincent's entire life.

"I know our child will be loved." Catherine said. "I love it so much already – and I'm not even 'showing' yet! And Below, the children will love the baby too, especially Jamie, Mary, and the children!"

Vincent nodded. "It will be well taken care of, that is for sure. My only thoughts on the matter are right now is that…" he took a deep breath. "Catherine, you and I, even though you our bringing our child into the world, it is still not our _time_. You must still live Above, in your world, and I must live in mine. Today the children spoke of our dream, our wonderful dream, of someday being together. And though it seems that we need it to be true, now more than ever, it does not feel like the right time."

Catherine nodded. "I understand, Vincent – I do."

Vincent held her close in his embrace. "It will happen someday – it _will_." He sounded very sure of himself. "We must be patient, for the right time to come."

"And when it does, we'll both know it." Catherine said, surely. "Whether it's in a week or sixty years, we'll know it."

Vincent's shoulders slumped slightly. "Let us hope it will not be that long." He said, referring to the sixty years.

Catherine's laughed rang out merrily. "Oh, don't fret, Vincent. I'm sure that everything will be worked out in several years. So much can change over a short period of time…"

Vincent nodded. "I will never forget when that tower was being built, going to destroy our world - the night that I almost lost you."

"Neither will I ever forget." Catherine said. "For that was the night I almost lost you. Going over to marry Elliot… that was one of the hardest things I had ever done… one of the rashest decisions I've ever made… and when I look back, I know that I'd never be able to walk away from you into another man's arms again – though if I thought it could help your world, I'd certainly try."

Vincent shook his head. "No, Catherine. Do not, please. The pain that it put both of us through…"

"Let's not think about it." Catherine interrupted quickly. "We've been dwelling on enough sad or frustrating things lately. Let's think of what we'll be doing in twenty years, on a lighter note. Let's see. Twenty years from today, it will be June 12th, 2009 – if it comes to that. Some people think the world might explode in 2000."

Vincent chuckled. "I do not think so."

Catherine smiled. "So assuming the world doesn't blow up – our baby won't be a baby any longer. He – or she – will be about nineteen. I'll be fifty-two, and you'll be-"

"Old." Vincent interrupted.

Catherine laughed. "Relatively, yes, we'll both be old. I'd like to think that we're living Below, wouldn't you?"

Vincent blushed slightly at her implying that they'd be living together, but he was getting used to it. Now, it seemed that their dream would certainly be fate.

"Yes, Below." Vincent said. "I'd like for you to be mine before 2009."

Catherine blushed at his mentioning 'her being his', but she knew he was just speaking the truth, and being very open with her, for which she was very grateful. Besides, she was absolutely dying to be his!

"We won't live Above because the pollution will be so gosh darn bad, and we'd prefer to live Below anyways." Catherine said.

"Catherine, the idea of me living Above is-"Vincent began.

"In our world, we can do whatever we'd like." Catherine said. "In our world, everyone is truly treated free and equal. In our world, you have an option."

Vincent smiled at Catherine's imaginative "Alice in Wonderland" type of fantasy, also enjoying her childlike playfulness. He decided he'd join in with her.

"Our baby – not so any longer – travels the world, seeing all the sights there are to see." Vincent began.

"And brings us back postcards from everywhere he – or she visits." Catherine said. "He – or she has a romantic interest."

"In someone Below or Above?" Vincent inquired.

"Above." Catherine said decidedly. "If our baby is a boy, he'll be in love with a French girl. And if it is a girl, an Italian man. They will have their problems, of course-"

"But they always know where to go if they are in need of advice, from someone who has been in their positions before." Vincent finished.

"Our chamber will be like Kanin and Olivia's – overflowing with beautiful candles." Catherine dreamed.

"But we won't be the only people in it." Vincent reminded her. "Children will want to play in their parent's chamber."

"Oh yes." Catherine agreed. "There will at least be a dozen under the age of fifteen."

Vincent smiled. "I should get to work right now."

"Doing what?" Catherine asked, pulling away from Vincent's embrace.

"Fleshing out new chambers for our children." Vincent teased.

Catherine smiled faintly, returning to her position leaning against Vincent. "Oh, we're so lucky." She sighed happily, looking out at the New York skyline. "I'm so perfectly happy right now."

Vincent could nearly hear his heart beating, it was so loud. He still couldn't get over the amazingly endless supply of happiness and energy he got when he got near Catherine. "I'm happy too," Vincent said softly. "More than you could ever know."

"Do you think we'll always be this happy?" Catherine wanted to know as she nuzzled closer to Vincent.

"We will have our struggles, I am certain." Vincent said. "But remember, love is the greatest thing of all, prevailing over every hardship and suffering we might endure. If we remember love that is all that matters."


	11. Chapter 11

11

**A/N: Thanks to all of the readers for their **_**wonderful **_**reviews – you won't believe how much easier it is to write 6,000 words a day having the kind of constructive, honest, and encouraging reviews you give me. Sorry if this story seems to be **_**so**_** long – it's probably the longest one in history. But I'll do my best not to exceed twenty-five chapters, I swear!**

"Have you had any morning sickness, any other irregularities?" Father wanted to know as he pressed a stethoscope against Catherine's stomach.

Catherine grimaced at the chilling feeling the stethoscope made go up her spine. "A bit, yes." She answered. "I seem to get it at night a lot. And, aside from mood swings-"

"I know when it is you have those." Father couldn't help but laugh. "Vincent, I'm afraid, gets emotionally exhausted during those times. He frets about your well-being, and I'm afraid he will nearly go crazy being filled with so many emotions, that it seems only a pregnant woman can feel!"

Catherine smiled faintly. "I feel so bad about that. A man shouldn't have to go through of all of a woman's emotions."

"Vincent does not mind much at all, I can assure you." Father replied. "His concern grows for you more and more so, day by day – I never even thought that was possible. Take a deep breath for me, dear."

Catherine was Below, in Father's chamber. It was about two in the afternoon – she had gotten off for an hour, with the excuse that she had a doctor's appointment, which was true. After the appointment was over though, she had to go question Karen Jones' boyfriend, the girl who had gotten murdered. She had found out his name and address from a family member.

Catherine did what Father asked her to do and took a deep breath. Father continued speaking to her while he listened to the baby inside her womb. "Catherine, I will admit, I still have my doubts about you and Vincent. You love each other with everything, you both have proved that, and you always will love each other, never less, only more, I believe that. Any doubts I have do not question your love, but the probability and possibility of things working out the way they, essentially, should."

Catherine nodded. "I'm sure every father in the world questions that, and you have more reason then them all to have your doubts. But I assure you, we'll be fine, I'm sure of it."

Father looked at Catherine in the eyes. "He's grown into a good man. A little on the wild side occasionally, very dangerous if he is not careful, and looks nothing like any man ever has before, but he is a good man. Your father would be proud to know you had such good judgment."

Catherine sighed. "I hope so. I made a lot of bad choices in the men department, and while I know with all of my heart that Vincent is the right one, I don't want to fail my Dad."

"Vincent voiced the same thing to me not so long ago." Father stated, again pressing the stethoscope against her stomach. "He once again spoke of his undying love for you, and asked me what I thought on the matter, if he was disappointing me in any ways."

"And?" Catherine prodded.

"I told him what I told you – and then some." Father told her with a shrug. "That I never imagined it would happen, but now that it has, I'm not sure I can say I have any objections. I told him if he could have picked any other woman in the world, he couldn't have picked better."

Catherine smiled, putting her hand affectionately on the older man's shoulder. "That means a lot coming from you, Father."

He cleared his throat. "Yes, well, you seem very healthy." He changed the subject back to her exam.

"And the baby?" she wanted to know.

"Very healthy." Father told her. "Or so it seems. I don't have any of that new-fangled equipment that you're used to, but what I do have had been satisfactory in the 1940's, and should still be satisfactory now."

"I trust you." Catherine told him.

Father was about to speak when Vincent stepped into Father's chamber. Seeing that an examination was in the works, and that Catherine's shirt was still lifted over her stomach, he blushed and tried to turn away.

"Vincent," Father called to him. "It's all right – come here."

Slowly, Vincent turned around and went down the narrow steps, nearing Father and Catherine. He felt unable to make eye contact with either one of them, feeling very uncomfortable around Catherine's very immodest state.

"Vincent, relax." Catherine told him. "You're more entitled to see me like this than anyone else in the world – in fact, I _want_ you to see me like this, more than anyone else in the world."

Vincent attempted to turn away again, but Father's voice once again stopped him. "She's right, you know." Father said, surprising both of them, not to mention him. "Please Vincent, stay. We're almost through here."

"Dr. Peter can run any tests that need to be done Above." Father told her. "I'm assuming you will want an ultrasound done in a few months, to know whether the baby is a boy or a girl."

Catherine looked over at Vincent for the answer. Vincent was a little confused at first, but then realized what Catherine wanted him to do.

_She wants me to make the decision! _Vincent realized with a thudding heart. _She's leaving this up to me, but why?_ He searched through their bond, finding she only felt pure love, tenderness and generosity, that she truly wanted to leave this decision up to him.

"I think we'd like to wait to find out." Vincent found himself saying.

Father raised his eyebrows. "Are you two sure?" he looked from Vincent to Catherine.

Catherine smiled fondly up at Vincent, and then down at her stomach where she knew the baby was lying in wait. "There's nothing like the element of surprise." She stated.

Father cleared his throat. "You do know, of course, that the ultrasounds can let us know early on of any-"he glanced up at Vincent, trying to convey his message to the both of them. "Of any unusual features."

"Do you want us to judge the child before it is born, just because it may be born like- like its father?" Vincent asked Father, finding it strange to refer to himself as a soon-to-be-father.

"No, no." Father said. "I just wanted to make sure the two of you were absolutely sure."

"Father, I'd like to give this child exactly what you gave me," Vincent said, putting his hand softly on Father's arm. "And that's plenty of love and affection, regardless of how he or she was brought into the world, no matter what he or she looks like – giving them more love, tenderness, knowledge, and more, than any child ever has had before." He looked up at Catherine. "Knowing how our child will look ahead of time, knowing its gender and outer – and inner - similarities to me or Catherine before it is born, would feel as if this opportunity was taken away from me."

"Besides, no one else Below finds out ahead of time." Catherine reminded Father. "If Vincent and I did find out, we might start a trend, and that could end up being dangerous to the world Below." She used a tactic she knew would work, putting the world Below at stake.

"I suppose you are right." Father sighed reluctantly.

"I am getting the feeling that you are eager to find out?" Vincent asked his father, an amused smile on his lips.

"It would be nice to know whether my first grandbaby will be a grandson or granddaughter, is all." Father said, giving Vincent a glare. "And if you ask me, 'Imogene' would still make a marvelous name for a girl."

Catherine groaned. "Oh Father, any name but that."

"We'll let you have your say." Vincent consented. "And take your advice on naming children to heart – though the final result may differ from what you wanted."

Father gave in. "Well, I suppose that's more than I could ask for. And we have all agreed that the baby will live Below?"

Catherine and Vincent nodded together. "Yes, it would be best for everyone."

Father pointed to Vincent. "And the baby will share your chamber?"

"Until its old enough to have its own, yes." Vincent verified. "We're already preparing its chamber though, for Catherine during the weekends."

"I'd like to sleep down here on Friday and Saturday nights." Catherine informed Father. "It will enable me to spend more time with the baby."

Father nodded. "Agreed. There will be other things for the two of you to discuss." Father looked from one to the other. "Bear in mind all the responsibilities and decisions to be made and discuss them thoroughly, and that's it for today, Catherine. You may go now, if you like."

"I have one more question." Catherine asked as she got up from the chair she was sitting on. "When should I stop climbing stairs and ladders, and stop walking as much?"

"You must stop ladders _now_." Father looked at her gravely. "You aren't still climbing that steel ladder from your basement, are you?"

She nodded. "Mouse is building some sort of contraption – he says it should be ready soon."

Father nodded. "Let me see it before you use it, to make sure it is safe."

"Do not worry, Father." Vincent said. "If I do not think it is much safer than the ladder, I will not let her use it."

Father again nodded. "Good then. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some things to get done." And with that, he got up and left his chamber.

Vincent looked over at Catherine. "Have you plans for this evening?"

Catherine went over her schedule quickly in her mind. "Yes, I'm afraid I have to get back to work on the murdered pregnant woman – the sooner that's taken care of, the better."

Vincent nodded. "Care to be escorted back to your apartment, my lady?" He enquired in a formal tone, holding out his arm to her.

"If you please, sir." She answered, trying not to giggle. She took his arm and they headed back to her apartment.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV  
**

"Well, here we are." Catherine said as they approached the ladder leading to the basement of her apartment. "I guess this is goodbye for now."

She out her foot on the ladder, ready to climb up, but Vincent stopped her. "No." he said. He carefully put his hands on her waist her hoisted her up so she wouldn't have to climb.

She smiled at him. "Your going to make a great father." She said, blowing Vincent a kiss. She wrinkled her brow. "Hey, wait a minute – what is our baby going to call you?"

"What do you mean?" Vincent asked her.

"I've always assumed you'd be called 'father' by our child, but that isn't going to work." She explained.

Vincent laughed a bit. "Or there would be two 'Father's" Below." He said. "We'll think on it; I am confident it is one of those things that will take care of itself."

Catherine nodded. "Your right. I love you." And with that, she left.

Vincent watched her until he could no longer see her or her shadow, know longer hear her footsteps fading away, and then, he turned and headed back towards the Tunnels. His relationship with Catherine had taken a great change in the short while she had been pregnant with his choices, but he couldn't argue that he was happy with the changes. His only wish was that everyone in the world could be as happy together as he and Catherine were.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

_Let's see, 125, Amesite Apartments… _Catherine went over the address in her mind as she walked down the halls of the apartment. Finally, she found the apartment she was looking for. Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the door.

A black man, maybe 25, opened the door. He was tall, very thin, had his curly hair cut very short, and was wearing a white sleeveless shirt that was covered with food stains.

"Can I help ya lady?" he asked Catherine. "If your sellin' something, I ain't interested."

He tried to slam the door shut, but she put her foot in front of the closing door to stop it from slamming shut. "Durkin Evans, I'm Catherine Chandler with the District Attorney's office. I'd like to talk to you about the murder of Karen Jones, your girlfriend."

"Look lady, I don't know who your talkin' about." The man said. "My name ain't Durkin Evans either."

"Oh, isn't it?" Catherine pulled a print-out photo of the man. "Durkin Evans is about six feet, one hundred and forty-five pounds, African-American, has one ear pierced," she eyed the earring in his ear. "Oh, and he has the same address as you. Yep, I think I've got the right guy."

"I don't know any Karen Jones". Durkin insisted, trying to shut the door without avail, Catherine still holding it open.

"Yes you do." Catherine insisted. "Or did, rather. Look, I'm not accusing you of anything! I just want answers to a few questions."

"Like what?" Durkin asked, leaning against the doorway of his apartment. "Ask all the questions you want – I'm clean."

"Do you know who murdered your girlfriend?" Catherine wanted to know.

Durkin shrugged. "She wasn't my girlfriend – we broke up about six months ago, lady – ain't seen her since."

"But surely you know something!" Catherine persisted. "Was she seeing someone else?"

"Told ya lady – I don't know." Durkin repeated.

"She was pregnant," Catherine tried again. "Five months and two weeks pregnant, with a child that I'm guessing would have been yours."

"Look lady, I don't know anything." Durkin insisted. "And if I did, what makes you think I'd tell you?"

"Look, the woman was choked to death – with bare hands." Catherine said. "The police are running tests to see who did it. If you fess up now, I promise you the charges will be less fierce."

"And would still wind up in prison for life, right?" Durkin asked.

Catherine nodded. "Perhaps."

"Forget about it, lady." Durkin said. "I didn't do it." And with that, he slammed the door shut.

Catherine sighed. It certainly seemed like he did it – he wasn't all that convincing. _But at least I tried_, she thought as she headed back to the DA's office.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"See? You sit, it lowers down to ground, and you get up." Mouse showed Vincent the contraption he had rigged for Catherine.

Vincent nodded. "I see, Mouse. Why don't you show me?"

Mouse climbed up the ladder. "You sit in the chair." He sat in the chair that was sitting at the top of the ladder. It was easy enough for a woman who was at least seven months pregnant. Once Catherine got further than that, they would have to come up with a different plan, but for now, Mouse's contraption looked like it would work.

"You press the button." Mouse pressed a little black button on the arm of the chair. The chair slowly lowered its way to the ground. "And then you get up." Mouse said once the chair was safely on the ground.

Vincent nodded. "I believe this will work. Why don't you show it to Father, Mouse? And thank you – you have done a wonderful job."

Mouse nodded. "Anything for Vincent, and for Catherine. Vincent and Catherine are both my friends."

Vincent smiled. "And you are our friend. Thanks to you, it will make it much easier for Catherine to come Below."

Mouse nodded. "Will the baby be a boy?"

Vincent shook his head. "We don't know."

"Do you hope it's a boy?"

"I hope it comes to this world safe, happy and healthy." Vincent told Mouse. "Thank you again, Mouse." He began walking away.

"I'll show it to Father now!" Mouse called.

Vincent nodded his consent. Catherine was now a month and a half pregnant. The next seven and a half months seemed like it would be an eternity until the baby came.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"I don't want to impose or anything." Meg told Catherine that night on the phone.

"Oh, no, you won't be." Catherine assured her. "Besides, I want you to come. I-I have something to tell you."

"What is it?" Meg asked curiously.

"I can't say right now." Catherine said quickly.

"Is there something wrong between you and Vincent?" Meg asked gently.

_Between me and Vincent? _Catherine thought. _Everything is right as rain between me and Vincent. It's the entire world and Vincent that I'm worried about._

"No – Vincent and I are happier than ever." Catherine truthfully told Meg. "It has to do with Vincent and… someone else."

"His parents?" Meg asked. "Typical."

"No, no." Catherine shook her head, twirling the phone cord around her finger. "Father – Vincent's father, that is, took my pregnancy better than I expected him to – much better. I thought he might have exploded and shunned me, or even worse, Vincent, for eternity. But he didn't. It was pretty miraculous for Fath- Vincent's father."

"What about Vincent's mother?" Meg asked. "Mike's mom still cries when she remembers that her only son is married."

Catherine chuckled, knowing that Meg wasn't exaggerating. Mike came from a very… unique family. "No – Vincent doesn't really have a mother. Father isn't married."

"Oh, that's right – he said he was adopted!" Meg said. "My bad. Well, what do you want to talk to me about there? How could it be so important that we just can't talk about it on the phone?"

"Because if I tell you now," Catherine searched for the words. "If I tell you now, itcold ruin the, er,_ effect_ the information might have on you. It's kind of hard to explain – you'll just have to see."

"So if it doesn't have to do with Vincent or the baby, what could it be?" Meg wondered out loud. "Cathy, you've been so secretive lately – what's up?"

Catherine sighed. "I only wish I could tell you over the phone. It's, well, complicated."

"You know I'm always there for you." Meg reminded Catherine. "And that I'm praying for you. And that if you ever need to talk, even in the middle of the night, I'm here for you."

"Thanks." Catherine said to her loving cousin with a smile. "The same here, okay? And look, I'm not going to be keeping any secrets from you once you come over here, I promise. I just can't wait for you to come!"  
" Tomorrow is a Saturday." Meg said. "I can probably come next Saturday. Think of it like that – in a week."

"All right." Catherine said. "So tell me more about autism being hereditary. I mean, I don't _think_ our baby will have it, seriously, I have my doubts, but just in case."

Meg started to explain autism to Catherine. There seemed to be so much to it. Catherine began taking notes on a notepad. Why did it seem that all the problems that could come with a baby – and more - had a big chance on playing out on her and Vincent's baby?

"Catherine, are you all right?" Meg asked all of a sudden.

"What?" Catherine said coming out of her daydreaming thoughts. "Me? Oh, yes, I'm fine. I was just listening."

"You haven't sounded so great lately." Meg asked, concerned. "Seriously Catherine, if something is bothering you that much, you can tell me."

Catherine sighed. "I know I can. That's why I need you to come over as soon as possible. I-I'm confused right now, and I-I have some secrets I need to share with you. About Vincent, about the baby, about me…" her voice trailed.

"So what you want to discuss has to do with Vincent and the baby?" Meg asked. "Catherine, I don't want you to think I'm being nosy or trying to pry, but-"

"I know, I know." Catherine stopped her concerned cousin. "I've just got a lot on my mind. You see, this baby wasn't exactly… planned."

"No offense Catherine, but I had that figured out." Meg replied. "Most people wait until they are married to choose to have kids."

"No, it's different." Catherine tried to explain. "Vincent and I weren't even supposed to have sex. It was an accident… a mistake. It was-"

"Calm down, calm down." Meg tried to calm Catherine down as Catherine began getting worked up. "What do you mean 'you weren't supposed to'? You mean you were going to wait until after you were married?"

"Sort of." Catherine answered honestly. "We were hoping on not- well, _hoping_ isn't the right word, but we were _trying_ to stay away from having sex altogether, whether we were married or not. It was an accident-"

"Whoa, whoa." Meg stopped her cousin. "You weren't _ever_ going to make-out? That's absurd – why?"

"Because we-we couldn't." Catherine searched for the words to tell Meg. "It's complicated."

"It must be."

"Yes." Catherine said. "You'll understand better when you meet Vincent – really, you will. When we had sex, it was completely spur the moment, and I had so much on my mind at the time that I didn't even think that I might have a baby. And now, months later, here I am pregnant!"

"Months later?" Meg repeated. "Catherine, it's been _months_ since you and Vincent had sex? Months since the last time you had sex?"

"Yes." Catherine said, wondering what Meg was getting at.

"Catherine, that's impossible." Meg said. "Absolutely impossible."

"How?"

"It's…" Meg searched for the words. "Medically complicated. Medically impossible. Medically impossible for you to get pregnant _months_ afterwards. What leaves Vincent and goes into you would die after a short time, if it doesn't 'unite' with an egg - do you catch my drift?"

Catherine nodded slowly, but then remembered that Meg couldn't see her, so she had to speak. "I think so. So what you're saying is…"

"That you couldn't possibly be pregnant?" Meg sounded confused. "But you've had ultrasounds, and tests run, haven't you?"

"Yes, I'm definitely pregnant." Catherine confirmed. _Is this something else that is… unique about Vincent? Why didn't Father or Vincent point this out to me? Why did no one point this out to me?_

"How could this be?" Meg sounded truly mystified.

_Oh, right, she doesn't know about Vincent… _Catherine realized. _She thinks he's perfectly normal…_ "Meg," Catherine said suddenly. "I need to talk to Vincent about this. I'm sure Vincent and his father realized this weeks ago… why didn't they tell me?"

Meg shook her head. "Cathy, you _cannot_ be pregnant if you remember correctly. It's physically _impossible_."

Even under the circumstances, Catherine couldn't help but smile. "Meg, the meaning of 'physically impossible' is about to take on a whole new meaning for you."

"It is?" Meg sounded truly lost. "How? Why? What do you mean?"

"Hey, can you do me a favor?" Catherine slightly changed the subject.

"Anything."

"Good. Can you call the relatives for me and tell them about me being pregnant. I… I don't want to."

"All right, Catherine now this is getting plain weird." Meg started to sound worried, but tried to hide it with a laugh. "Why don't you want to tell the rest of our family?"

"Because it's… hard to explain." Catherine said. "Tell them I'm pregnant and… I don't know. Tell them I'm pregnant and would like no one else to get involved."

"Okay," Meg said slowly. "If you wish. But _why_?"

Catherine laughed, though feeling sorry for her cousin's confused state. "You'll see this coming Friday or Saturday – I promise you."

"So it's final?" Meg asked. "I'm definitely coming?"

"If you change your mind, I'll abduct you and drag you here." Catherine warned playfully.

Meg laughed, despite her confusion. "And the first thing we'll do is sit down, and you'll explain all of this?"

Catherine nodded. "Well, we might want to go down to baggage first and gets your luggage." She answered playfully.

"Look, I gotta go." Meg said. "Mike wants to call his Mom before we hit the hay."

"Okay. Good talkin' to you, see you soon." Catherine said. "Love you, be safe, 'bye."

'Bye." Meg said, hanging up the phone. She turned to her husband, Mike, who was patiently waiting to use the phone. "That was… interesting."

"It sounded interesting." Mike returned. "Dare I ask what it's all about?"

"It's Catherine." Meg tried to explain. "She's pregnant, but it's been months since she's made love. A little weird."

"It sounds suspiciously a lot weird." Mike said, walking over the phone getting ready to make his phone call. "Are you sure she's telling the truth, that it's been months?"

Meg nodded. "I think so. She's not the type to lie, and especially about not something as serious as this. But then something else strange happened."

"What?" Mike wanted to know.

"She did sound confused about it for a moment, of how she could possibly be pregnant, but then she sounded like she figured it out, that it made sense." Meg tried to explain. "Something is up."

"Well, you'll find out when you go to New York, right?"

"Right." Meg said. "She sounds eager to talk."

"Good." Mike said, dialing the phone. "You all right?"

She nodded. "Yes, but I think I'm going to bed early. Goodnight."

"G'Night." He returned.

Meg sighed, going into the bedroom she shared with her husband. She slipped on some pajamas and then collapsed onto their bed, her mind whirling with thoughts.

_What is wrong with Catherine? _She asked herself. _Something seems wrong, off-key. She seems kind of depressed, in a way, but happy. I don't understand it – she used to be different…_

Meg rolled over and felt around under the bed, until she found what she was looking for; a scrapbook she had made of her and Catherine. Inside the blue covers were pages, thick, and full of pictures of the two of them throughout the years.

Meg turned to the first page. There was a copy of her birth certificate – Margaret Elizabeth Chandler, born July 31st, 1956. And below that was a copy of Catherine's birth certificate – Catherine Trudi Chandler, born September 26th, 1956. Meg laughed, remembering the day they told each other their middle names. Meg had been embarrassed, her name being so British sounding, what with Princess Margaret and Princess Elizabeth, but had felt more embarrassed for Catherine. Catherine Chandler was such a fine sounding name, but when you added the name Trudi in there – yuck. Catherine's middle name came from her great-grandmother.

She turned to the next page that had a picture of the two of them, at age 4, playing in a little pool in Meg's backyard. She had vague memories of that day, or maybe she only thought she remembered because of the pictures. She smiled at the two little girls in their 60's style bathing suits. They looked so happy, and they reminded her of her own two daughters, Bailee and Cameryn.

The next picture showed the two of them at age 6, celebrating Meg's birthday at Walt Disney World, a place where most kids they knew had just dreamed about going.

And the next picture, they were nine, going to see the Beatles' movie _Help!_ In theatres. That was the day where adolescence set in for both of them, the beginning of two girls' crush on the biggest boy-band of all time. And a couple months later, Catherine's mother died, making Catherine mature much faster than her older cousin.

Meg sighed, looking at the pictures of that era for the girls. It was sad, Catherine getting this somewhat permanent dreary-eyed look in her eyes.

The next picture was when they were fifteen, on a trip Meg's parents took them to Hawaii. Meg remembered that they spent most of that trip trying to get boys to notice them, and were very successful, especially Catherine. Catherine had an amazing knack for getting men to notice her, a talent Meg did not understand, and certainly didn't possess. _And it's taken her this long to get pregnant?_ Meg thought, remembering that was the summer they both lost their virginity. _And she's still not married? Amazing._

The next pictures were their senior pictures. Catherine had looked so gorgeous, her hair falling around her shoulders so naturally, her eye make-up just right, her smile perfect and even, looking unlike Meg looked like in her photo. They hadn't done much that year, besides chase down boys, of course. Catherine had applied for several different colleges, and Meg didn't apply for any, knowing that she was going to get married to Mike soon after they graduated, and was hoping on someday being a stay-at-home Mom, which she achieved.

She looked through the pictures she had of Catherine during recent years. Catherine used to be different – more self-absorbed, more fashion-conscious, more typical. But ever since she had been mugged, and missing for ten days, she had been different, more aware, more concerned for other people's welfare. Meg loved the new Catherine with all her heart, but sometimes couldn't help but wonder 'why'? Why was Catherine so different?

Meg studied the most recent pictures she had of her cousin. During the past two years or so, she looked so much happier. But why? Meg couldn't figure it out.

_Wait, that's about the same time she met Vincent, _Meg realized, a smile sneaking its way onto her lips. _No wonder she had been so chipper and happy looking since then! But also, since then, she's seemed different. More secretive, like she's not confiding in me like she used to. But maybe that will change next week._

She hoped it would. She wanted her little sister back.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

Vincent paced back and forth in Father's chamber. He had been doing that in silence for the past ten minutes.

Father looked up from the book he was reading and ripped off his glasses. "You know that won't help, Vincent." He said, referring to his son's pacing. "And have I ever mentioned that it bothers me when you do that? Please stop."

Vincent stopped at his father's request. "I just don't understand it." He muttered.

"Understand what?" Father wanted to know.

"Her emotions." Vincent explained. "On moment she is happy, and the next thing I know, she feels guilty. And then confused, and then no longer. A little angry, guilty and happy, all at once. I just cannot understand!"

"A woman's emotions are a difficult thing to understand," Father said. "No man before has ever understood a woman's emotions, and I have my doubts that we ever will. Vincent, do you remember when Neil Armstrong first landed on the moon?"

Vincent nodded, wondering what Father was getting at.

"That was something men deemed impossible, something they would never achieve." Father explained. "And while I believe that our race of beings can do anything, there is only one thing I think they cannot do is understand a woman, no matter how hard we try."

"There is a famous quote that says 'a woman's heart is an ocean of many secrets', and I believe it also is a sea of emotions." Father said. "You have gotten the closest to understanding that sea of emotions than any other man in history, and will likely keep the standing for quite some time. You share a gift with Catherine. A gift that should be used wisely. You have been given the gift to know her heart."

Vincent nodded, so Father continued. "Misunderstanding a woman's emotions is a grave thing to do, even if the emotions do not make sense. It becomes even graver when you misunderstand the woman you love's emotions. Many men have lost the women in their lives because of the misunderstanding, something I do not want to happen to you, Vincent."

Vincent raised his eyebrows. "You are approving of our love then?"

Father sighed. "I once was married, as you know Vincent, to a woman very special. Margaret, she- she was my world. And even though it has been years since I last saw her, I think of her everyday, and wonder 'what could I have done different to have kept her with me, always'. I do not doubt that your love for Catherine is as strong as mine for Margaret's – or stronger. And though you may have other features that should give you terrible disadvantages in the world of women and love, you have one powerful advantage that makes up for any disadvantage – your gift. You have been blessed, Vincent, with an incredible gift and an equally incredible woman."

"What advice are you trying to give me?" Vincent asked, since it was unlike Father to ramble so.

"I'm just trying to remind you of your great fortune, and remind you to follow your heart – and Catherine's, in this case." Father added. "Do what you think is right."

Vincent nodded. "Then I will not go Above tonight."

"What?" Father asked, startled, knowing his son usually went Above every chance he got.

"I will not go Above tonight." Vincent repeated, simply. "I must give Catherine her space, and I promised her that I would stay Below as much as possible, for her and the baby's sake, and I have yet to fulfill that promise."

"Well, in that case, would fancy a game of chess?" Father motioned to the chess board lying nearby. "We have not played since Catherine's big news, and I must admit my skills have greatly approved since we last played." He said the last part with a twinkle in his eye, knowing that there were chess championships that went on Above, and knowing his son could win each and every one of them without a problem.

"Very well." Vincent agreed. "But do not get angry at me when I win." He sat down in front of the small table where the board lay. "I will be the blacks." Vincent stated.

Father smiled, happy that everything Below was finally turning back to normal, or almost anyway.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"May I come in?" Catherine asked, taking a tentative step into Father's chamber.

Both Vincent and Father stood at Catherine's entrance. "Yes." Father said.

"We need to talk." Catherine said flatly.

It was an hour later. Vincent and Father were still in their game of chess. Catherine had decided to confront Vincent and Father now on the typical 'physically impossible' part of her pregnancy. She was pretty sure Father and Vincent, yes, Dr. Peter, had already thought of how unlikely it would be for her to become pregnant months afterward, but she was curious to know their solution to the problem, and why the didn't discuss it with her.

"Is there anything wrong?" Father asked next. It was late for Catherine to come Below.

"No, I don't think so." Catherine said. "I just got off the phone with Meg, and she pointed something out to me…"

"What is it?" Vincent asked, moving towards Catherine.

She took a deep breath, pretty sure that this was something Father, and especially Vincent, would _not_ feel comfortable discussing. "We had sex months ago, and I'm pregnant. Sperm simply doesn't live that long."

Vincent felt his face turn a deep shade of crimson. "Catherine, I-I-"

"We have already thought of that." Father said abruptly. "Goodnight Catherine."

"Well, why didn't anyone say something to me?" she asked, her emotions getting worked up.

Vincent raised his eyes at Father in alarm, feeling her emotions readying to rocket sky high. "Catherine," Vincent tried. "In your world, in your culture, personal things are discussed. On city streets, in newspapers, everywhere, people's private business is displayed. Here," he gestured to Below. "Here what is considered personal remains personal. We did not know that you felt a need to know, and we felt that it was something that should remain… private, to Father, Dr. Peter, and I."

"So even though it did somewhat involve me, you felt as if I shouldn't know?" Catherine asked, her anger rising.

"Catherine," Vincent tried again, getting a little more desperate. "Catherine, for now on I shall share with you – I promise." He would promise her _anything_ to avoid another emotional roller-coaster ride.

"What do you think is going on?" she asked, nearing him, her emotions calming done for what Vincent knew what be temporary.

"I think- I don't know what to think." He shook his head. "I think about it the way I think about the rest of myself; imperfect."

"So you think that your body may be 'wired' different sexually, as well as physically?" she asked.

If it was possible for Vincent to turn a darker shade of crimson, he certainly did right then. "Perhaps." He asserted. "Perhaps."

"This is very… inappropriate." Father broke in, clearing his throat the way he always did when a situation was awkward, uncomfortable, or simply inappropriate.

"Hardly." Vincent said, turning to Father. "Father, Catherine and I have never had any secrets from each other – why should now be any different?"

Father was taken aback. Yes, he could see his son's point, that sharing secrets was one of the best things you could do with the woman you love. But on the other hand, a man's sexual organs and activity were considered very private. But on the other hand, why should it be kept private from the woman who was carrying your child? But on the other hand, why was Vincent all of a sudden willing to share all of this information with Catherine, information he had agreed would be best to keep her in the dark about? On the other hand, - he had already overspent his hands. Father shook his head, trying to understand his son's ways.

"Catherine, Father and Dr. Peter do not think it is anything to be concerned over," Vincent told her gently. "If there was to be any concern, I would have told you immediately."

She nodded, blinking back tears. "It just makes me wonder what else you're keeping from me."

"Nothing." Vincent told honestly, putting his hand on her shoulder. "Nothing at all. If you had asked me straight forward like you just did, I would not have lied to you. I was not going to tell you unless you asked. As Father said, we are accustomed to keeping these things private Below, and I did not want to worry you over something extra while you're in such a… delicate condition." He searched for the words. "I did not want to trouble you – for you and the baby's sake." _And my own sake,_ he added to himself silently.

"You're telling the truth?" Catherine asked doubtfully. "You aren't lying to me?"

Vincent sighed. "Catherine, have I ever lied to you before? Search me – I only speak the truth. Why all the sudden distrust in me?"

Father deemed it best not to break into their conversation. It was as if they had forgotten he was in the chamber with them, which was all the best. _Better to have them work out their own problems_, he thought. _I will just stay here in case a highly emotional argument breaks out._ He tried not to chuckle at the thought. His son could take care of himself in most circumstances – he was strong, had amazing flexibility, and even had claws. But he was no match against a pregnant woman in an emotional state. He had better be there to protect his son. Father again tried not to laugh at the thought, since he hadn't had to protect his son in such a way in years, but failed, and he laughed a bit out loud.

Vincent and Catherine both turned to look at Father.

"Father, are you all right?" Vincent asked his Father, concerned.

"Yes, I'm fine." Father tried to cover up his laugh with a cough, but it was too late; it was already apparent he had somehow found humor in the situation.

"He laughs." Catherine stated, angrily to Vincent. "He thinks it's _funny_ that you're keeping secrets from me? It's a little game the two of you are playing, right? You're turning against me, aren't you?" she questioned Vincent.

"No!" Vincent exclaimed. "No." he got a bit softer. "Catherine, you are my world. I would never turn by back against you, never betray you. I will _always_ be there for you, you know I will."

"No, I do not know that." Catherine said, all of a sudden cool. "Good day, Mr. Wells." And with that, she turned and left.

"Catherine," Vincent started after her, but Father interrupted. "I wouldn't, Vincent. She is just a little upset right now. She'll come around; she always does."

"A _little_ upset?" Vincent turned around to face his father, a little irritated at his Father's actions. "She is _angry_ at me, Father. More angry than she has ever been before. She's hurt – she seriously feels we've turned against her! And she didn't feel that way until you laughed!"

"I'm truly sorry, Vincent." Father apologized. "Truly, I am. I just found a bit of humor in the situation, a humor I will not even try to explain to you, for you will not understand."

"How am I to convince her that I-"Vincent stopped. "Father?"

"Yes, Vincent?" Father asked, putting his hand cautiously on his son's shoulder.

"She shut off the bond." Vincent said. "I can no longer feel her at all."

"She's doing it on purpose." Father assured him. "So you will not have to go through all of her emotions."

Vincent shook his head, knowing why Catherine shut off their bond. "No, Father. She's doing it to punish me."


	12. Chapter 12

_Gosh, I can't stand him!_ Catherine thought angrily as she stormed her way out of the Tunnels. '_This is inappropriate', 'we shouldn't be saying this', 'we shouldn't be doing that', 'this is not our way'! Sometimes that works, I understand, but under some circumstances, you should break the rules about what's 'appropriate' or 'tradition'! As much as I love everyone Below, sometimes they can be so pig-headed to stay with their rules!_

_And Father – why did he laugh at me? Does he think me wanting to know about his and Vincent's thoughts on the matter funny? He's trying to break me and Vincent apart, isn't he? With all of his 'it cannot be' and is 'finding love Above', and all that trash! He wants to keep Vincent all to himself! And you know what? That's fine. If Vincent wants to keep secrets from me, secrets that should definitely _not_ be kept from the woman who is pregnant with your child, then so be it! But he'll regret it- they _both_ will regret it!_

A little voice inside Catherine's head told her that she was being ridiculous but she ignored it as she marched right up the steel ladder, instead of using the lift Mouse had worked so hard to make for her. She knew that if she fell from the ladder, it would be dangerous for the baby, but she didn't feel like she cared right then. She was too angry.

Why exactly was she angry? It wasn't _that_ big of a deal. So Vincent's sperm lived longer than the average man's, big deal. Vincent and Father considered that to be a very private thing and Dr. Peter simply abided by their wishes, not telling Catherine. She couldn't quite understand why she was angry at them, but she was. She was so_** ANGRY**_!

Was she angry at them for not telling her? Was she angry at Father because he laughed? Was she angry at Vincent for making her pregnant in the first place? Was she even angry at all? She couldn't sort through her emotions.

She suddenly began concreting on the bond, trying to close off her feelings from Vincent. _There, _she said. _He thinks he can't stand feeling what I feel? Fine then, he won't. But he will sure wish he could by the end of this week! I won't speak to him, talk to him, even look at him all week. Or think of him, starting now._

She tried to concentrate on other things, but her mind kept going back to Vincent. How did he feel about what she had just done? The thought of opening up their bond again so she could attempt to find out flashed her mind, but she quickly shut it out. If she did that, he'd think they were on good terms again, which they definitely were _not_.

By the time she got back to her room, she had been gone an hour, and the little red light on her answering machine was blinking. She pressed the button to hear all of her messages while she undressed and began to wash her makeup off.

_Hey Radcliffe, Durkin Evans will be taken in for further questioning, and more than likely will be put behind bars soon. Good work, and oh yeah, I've got lot of _extra_ paperwork that needs done – and I think it has your name on it. Do it for me, and I might give you a couple extra days of. Talk to you about it tomorrow_.

Catherine moaned, thinking about the upcoming week she wanted off. Well, if she wanted that week off, she had better do that paperwork for Joe. She was slipping on her light pink nightgown when the next message began playing.

_Hello? Catherine? This is your Great-Aunt Josephine. I heard you were pregnant? Who's your husband? Are you married? How dare you not wait! You know how I feel about such things! How do you feel about the baby? What about your husband, or is he your boyfriend? Or did he leave you at the news? Pick up the phone, child!_

Catherine really wasn't in the mood to hear her great-aunt bark at her, so she skipped over to the next message, while she went to brushing her hair.

_Hey Cathy! This is Meg! I got a list of the flights leaving to New York this weekend, and there is a cheap flight leaving Indiana on Friday at 3:00PM. It would probably take two hours to land, so I wouldn't get to New York until 5:00PM. Is that too early for you? Let me know as soon as you can. Love you!  
_Catherine couldn't help but smile at that message. If there was one thing she could count on, it was Meg's cheerfulness and love, always. She reminded Catherine of a character in a book or play or something, but Catherine couldn't quite put her finger on it.

During their last conversation, only an hour or so ago, Catherine had asked Meg to call the relatives and let them know, so Catherine wouldn't have to. Meg had apparently dutifully done so, or started at least, because now she was getting a bunch of messages from relatives, saying 'congratulations!' So, so far, so good. She wouldn't answer people's messages about her 'boyfriend' unless she had to, and then she knew she'd have to make it completely clear that they weren't allowed in the baby's life. Catherine sighed, knowing that she was liable to break relationships with nearly everyone in her family, but it had to be done.

_I wonder, will I breastfeed the baby? _Catherine wondered. _It seems that that's the way it _should_ be done, but I shouldn't, especially since I'll be gone during the day. It needs to be bottle-fed, so someone can feed it during the day. Unless you can switch back and forth between the two? I don't think you can, but hey, it's worth asking. I'll ask Fat-, no Dr. Peter. I'm _not_ speaking to Father _again_ after laughing at me that way._

In the back of her mind, deep in her subconscious, she knew she was being unfair to both Father and Vincent, especially since she wasn't aware of the entire situation. But she was being overly emotional right now, and she knew it to, but never would have admitted it.

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Vincent took a step into Central Park, all around him dark. He needed sometime to think – the fresh air would do him good.

He wrapped his navy blue cloak around him closer. It was a hot summer night, to be sure, but he couldn't risk anyone seeing him as he truly was.

_Why must Catherine go through these moods? _Vincent wondered. _Why must she get so angry, overreact? I thought going through her emotions with her was kind of bad, but now that she's cut me off from them, I realize again, what a gift our bond is. Knowing how she feels, and where she is gives me help, helps me give her emotionally what I cannot give her physically. Please Catherine, open up to me again! _He pleaded to her silently, but of course, no avail, especially without their bond being as open as it usually was.

Vincent stepped into the shadows as a couple walked by, and then continued on his way. He felt kind of relived, not feeling her wild emotions, but it felt so odd, not feeling her that he just couldn't sit still. He had to keep moving.

_Should I go to her apartment? _He wondered. _No, Father is right. She should be alone right now. Having me there won't do any good. She will just get angrier. Maybe by tomorrow evening she will have calmed down._

He certainly hoped so. There was so much he felt that still needed to be discussed, like her cousin's upcoming visit, their child's life, their lives, and more. So many he could not mentally list them, so many he could probably never list them

_Catherine!_ He pleaded with all of his heart. _Open up to me once more, please! Please, give me another chance! I need you!_

_I wonder how Catherine would feel about me if I were a normal man. _Vincent wondered. _Would she love me more? Would she love me less? I wonder, underneath fur, claws, wide cheekbones, and my other features, what do I look like? What would I look like if I had a full upper lip, or even just normal hands like every man has? Or my hair, what if it was more of hair instead of a mane? What if I looked more like a human being instead of a lion, an animal?_

_What if our child is my reflection, my mirror, my shadow? What if the child looks like me? What if he lacks a human brain at all? What if she has the sickness? What if the baby looks perfectly normal, save a cleft lip, or something else? What if the baby has a problem completely unrelated to me? Catherine mentioned autism ran in her family – what if the child physically takes after me and is autistic? We will love it, nevertheless, but it would be much more of a challenge than it would be otherwise._

_How did Father do it?_ Vincent wondered. _How did he raise Devin and I so well? We both managed to grow up without fatal or serious injuries, and now, a woman actually loves me, and is pregnant with my child – actually pregnant with _my_ child. It is unfathomable – completely unfathomable Father is such a good man. I suppose if we're ever in doubt while rearing this child, we will have help nearby._

Vincent turned back and started back towards the Tunnels. He didn't want to venture too far away from a Tunnels entrance, in case something happened. He knew he promised Catherine that he would try to stay Below, but if he did that, he would go insane, literally. And he couldn't afford for that happen again – too much was at stake.

'_Sperm simply does not live that long'._ The words rang in Vincent's head, and he couldn't help but blush slightly of Catherine's openness of the use of the word. How was she truly pregnant with his child? He knew in his heart that she was telling the truth, that it was his baby, and that it didn't belong to any other man, but he could hardly believe it. Father said that it was probably something else that made Vincent unique, but he said it in that way to be kind. In more harsher, more realistic terms, it was it was some kind of trait that ran through Vincent's blood, coming from whatever species of animal or cavemen he was related to.

Cavemen. Vincent couldn't help but smile at that. The odds of cavemen really existing was minimal, but once Devin had told him that Vincent was related to the cavemen, just to make Vincent mad – and it worked. He remembered how he had been mad at Devin all day, almost striking him several times. When Father came in to check on him that night, Vincent had been crying. Father had just held his son and comforted him until Vincent fell asleep in his arms. Now Vincent towered over his Father, and would hardly get upset at the same offense that Devin had 'committed' that one day many years ago, but it was a fond memory of Vincent's, a memory he knew would stay with him the rest of his life. It was the first time that Vincent realized that no matter who he was, what he looked like, what he acted like, Father would always love him as if he were his own flesh and blood, and would care for him until it was impossible to care no more. And it didn't matter that Father could now be well-described as 'elderly' or that Vincent was a grown-man – he was still Father's adopted child and Father would always treat him that way, like his own child. And for that, Vincent would always be grateful, knowing that there was no other man in the world that could or would ever care for a child more than Father cared for Vincent.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

The next morning, Vincent woke up bright and early at 5:30. He was generally an early riser, the other Tunnelers usually not waking up until 6:00 to 7:00. But that was all right – it gave him some guaranteed privacy. He quickly pulled off his white nightshirt and changed into his clothes, and after yanking the comb through his hair a couple times, he sat down at his table, writing in his journal.

_July 21__st__, 1989_

_Catherine is still asleep, our bond is now wide open, as she cannot control it while asleep. But she should wake up very soon – will our bond still be open? I cannot imagine how I would get on without our bond, without knowing where she was, safe. Not knowing whether she was frightened, sad, or simply happy. Not knowing if she spoke her heart or lies, which is something I need to know right now. I need her heart to be open and truthful to me, as I need to be to her. I must remind her that regardless of what happens, she will always be my life, I will always treasure and care for her more than anything, I will always love her. I must remind her that I will always be open and truthful to _her_, that she can always tell me anything. Only it may be best to not speak my heart or mind to her right now, not until after the pregnancy – she may overreact or take something I said the wrong way too easily._

_Which I do not understand! _Vincent continued to write as quickly as he could, not bothering to worry about what he wrote, his penmanship, etc. _She knows my heart; she knows what I mean when I say something. She knows… everything. Yet she still takes things the wrong way. I must do some reading and studying on it. Perhaps I am doing something wrong. But you would think if I was that Father would be the first to tell me!_

Vincent wrote straight on fort another fifteen minutes before he felt at ease with himself. It usually helped to write in his journal like that, feverishly, not thinking. Father had started him on it when he was an adolescent, stating that instead of striking something – or someone – taking his feelings out on the paper would be better. Vincent had understood then why Father was so concerned. Even at the young age Vincent was, not older than twelve or thirteen, he was strong, muscled, strong-tempered, and yes, dangerous. It had frustrated Vincent at first, and rather humiliated him, that Father had to find him something to do to work as therapy almost, but as the years went by, Vincent became grateful. Had he not started writing in his journal, his world could be completely different now. And besides, Vincent learned a lot about himself by flipping through old entries. He learned more about himself through writing than anyone else could learn about him, no matter what method was used.

Once he signed the entry, Vincent shut his journal quickly, willing himself not to read over what he just wrote. If he did that, he might feel compelled to rip out the page and start anew, something he learned long ago he must not do.

He stood up from the table and stretched. Maybe it was just as well that he knew Catherine wouldn't come Below today, that he had no distractions from Above such as her emotions. He needed to ready the baby's chamber; it still was not completely fleshed out. Mary would generally take charge of decorating it, she usually did, but of course, Catherine would also want say-so.

Vincent sighed. Catherine had been so different of late. He knew it was a result from her pregnancy, that she would get back to normal soon, for which he was grateful. He wondered how long he could go on feeling her hormone-induced emotions, her blocking their bond, and her unpredictability. He just wished everything would get back to normal. He knew that things would never get back to what they were, that now Catherine and Vincent would have a child in their lives for eternity, but he wished for it to get as close to normal is their fates could possibly allow. He wanted his Catherine back.

He went over to the basin of water on a stand. He used the chilly water to quickly wash his face, and then used it to brush his teeth. Below, everyone used baking soda, not toothpaste, to brush their teeth. It was cheaper than toothpaste and went further. Besides, it was much more practical, serving many purposes, being used as a disinfectant, to a cleaning tool, to medicine, not to mention cooking. Vincent was careful to get as little as the baking soda as he could on his tongue so he wouldn't have to taste the bitter, sour taste of the baking soda.

Once through with all of that, he left his chamber. William would have breakfast ready soon, and maybe Vincent could get some work put into the baby's chamber before then.

Of course, most of the Tunnel babies didn't have their own chamber, usually sleeping in the parent's chamber or the chamber that served as a nursery, but this was a different case. Catherine needed a chamber to use during the weekends and the guest chamber would not suffice, and besides, when the baby was a little bit older, he or she would need their own chamber, wouldn't they? And the chamber they were making was right next to Vincent's, very practical. Yes, making a new chamber just because of a pregnancy might be a little unusual for the Tunnel dwellers, but this was an unusual case. 

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"Well, you were very, very small, often sick, and cried all of the time." Mary told Vincent. She was in the nursery, keeping an eye on the children while winding yarn.

It was later that afternoon, around noon, and Vincent was questioning everyone he could on when he was a baby, trying to gather as much information as possible.

"You didn't cry as much when Father held you." Mary said thoughtfully. "Maybe you understood how much he loved you, even though you were only an infant. You do have that gift, Vincent."

Vincent nodded thoughtfully. "Was there any particular reason why I was often sick? Why I cried so often?" Vincent asked Mary.

"You cried often because normal babies do." Mary said firmly. "It's nothing unusual."

"And whenever I was ill?" Vincent questioned.

"We're lucky you survived." Mary said. "Whoever could be cruel enough to leave a naked infant in a dumpster in the middle of January? That person deserves to spend the rest of his life behind bars."

Vincent nodded. He was hoping to avoid the subject of his being found. He certainly did not feel like wondering about how he entered the world. "So my being sick was simply a result of the cold?"

"We have no idea how long you had been out there." Mary said, shaking her head. "You were nearly frozen. You were in such pain when we tried to warm you up – you were _that_ cold. Miraculously, there was no frostbite. And between having fevers, colds, pneumonia, the croup, and other things that either resulted from your being abandoned in the cold or just simple illnesses baby's get, you were a very uncomfortable child. You were also very, very weak, and malnourished."

Vincent nodded slowly. "And how old was I?"

Mary shrugged, continuing to rock back and forth in her rocking chair. "Hours, days, weeks, we're not quite sure. Sometimes you can tell by looking at a person's teeth, but you had none." She smiled faintly, trying to remember the large man with fangs, claws, and the biggest heart ever, the man who was sitting across from her holding the yarn for her while she wound it, trying to remember him a baby. It seemed like centuries ago, yet, it seemed like only yesterday. "But your teeth came in months later, so you were most likely only hours or days when you came to us."

"Was what Paracelsus said true?" Vincent questioned, holding the red yarn wrapped around his hands in such a way so it would not get tangled.

"What did Paracelsus say?" Mary wanted to know, concentrating on her yarn.

"That he named me, that he took care of me. He said that Father only became my father after Paracelsus was banished?" Vincent asked. "That Father thought I was going to die?"

Mary put down her yarn and stared hard at Vincent. "Just when did John tell you that?"

"Not so long ago." Vincent answered. "Remember when Pascal, Winslow and I went to go rescue Catherine from Paracelsus?" his heart saddened, as it always did when he thought of the fatal journey in which his very dear live-long friend, Winslow, died.

Mary nodded. "I remember. And he told you what?"

"That he, Paracelsus, found, took care of, and named me." Vincent said. "He said that Father thought I should have been left to die."

"What does your heart tell you?" Mary asked the young man.

Vincent thought a moment before he spoke up. "I should not like to believe him. If what Paracelsus said was true, then I would be calling him Father right now, not the man I call Father. I believe that Paracelsus may have found me, and that he may have helped to take care of me for some time and maybe even did name me. I think Father may have voiced the possibility that I might die, but he never said he wanted me to, because he wished for nothing more than for me to live."

Mary nodded. "And you are absolutely right, Vincent. You and Father know each other well."

"I have no secrets from Father." Vincent said.

"That's good to hear." Mary said approvingly. "Many men would have written their father off long ago. Father is proud of you, Vincent – we all are. You are a very fine man."

Vincent looked at Mary earnestly in the eyes. "Thank you, Mary."

"No, what John said was a lie." Mary told Vincent, continuing to wind the yarn. "A Helper of ours, Anna, found you, shortly before she died. She brought you to Father and John, knowing that men of their professions, a doctor and a scientist, could certainly help you, and she knew that you would be safe in our world. Paracelsus did help keep you alive. We had these twenty-four hour shifts so that someone could be watching over you at all times. Paracelsus had the midnight to six in the morning shift. He was a rather lazy man, so him offering to take such a long, late shift surprised us, but we soon found out why he did it; he was trying to run experiments and such of you. Father found out before he ran too many though, before John could find much out about you."

"Thus began their friendship breaking apart." Vincent spoke up.

Mary nodded. "They hadn't been on the best of terms before then, but then began the serious arguments, yes. Anyway, Father named you Vincent and was your official father from the beginning." She smiled. "Late one evening, around ten or eleven, I caught Father holding you, talking to you. He was telling you all about the world Below, all about the world Above, all about himself and your brother, Devin. He actually called Devin your older brother, even though you had only been with us for hardly twenty-four hours. "

"Father did? Really?" Vincent was surprised.

"Yes." Mary continued, still smiling. "He told you how he didn't care what anyone else thought, that you were a beautiful child, would grow into a handsome man, and that no matter what happened, that he'd always love you. He said that he could not wait until you got older, so that you two could play with building blocks and wooden trains, he couldn't wait to teach you to read and share the love of books with you. He told you over and over that he loved you, and pleaded for you to live."

Vincent's eyes filled with tears. "He said all that?"

Mary nodded. "And more. But don't tell him I told you; he might get very angry."

Vincent stood up and then bent down to give Mary a warm embrace. "I won't tell him. And thank you Mary, you do not know how much those words mean to me."

"Your welcome." She replied. "We all love you Vincent, with everything – never, ever forget it."

"I won't." he answered, leaving the chamber.

Mary gave a happy, content sigh as she returning to her yarn. Vincent was a miracle, an absolute miracle, and she had been one of the fortunate people to get to see him grow up. She smiled, remembering Vincent as he first came to them. He had been cute, almost like a three-pound kitten, but very cold, very weak, very hungry, and very in need for love. But he quickly found what he needed – warmth, strength, nourishment, and love. Enough love that it got to the point where he was willing to share it all. Mary had never dreamed in her wildest dreams for the boy that he'd ever fall in love with a woman and the woman returning that love, certainly not a woman from the world Above. Yet it had happened, it had truly happened, and now, that woman from Above was pregnant with his child.

Mary shook her head, her heart soaring with happiness for both Vincent and Catherine, but especially Vincent. He had survived the cold and abandonment as a baby, the pain and hurt as a child, the madness as an adolescent, the loneliness as a very young man, the turmoil he went through for Catherine, again the madness, and now, he was living through the problems of Catherine's pregnancy. He was truly remarkable – a truly remarkable, walking miracle. 

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"What's wrong with me?" Catherine muttered to herself as she went through the paperwork necessary to bring Durkin Evans to the courtroom. "Vincent and Father love me – they'd never keep anything from me unless it was deemed necessary. Below is a different culture than mine – here, right in New York City, right on Fifth avenue, we have _The Museum of Sex_. Below, the word isn't even said unless it is needed. Words such as 'sex' and 'sperm' aren't exchanged between anyone, unless it's like father to son. That's why they didn't say anything to me! Catherine, how dumb can you be?"

"Okay, now I'm just lost." Joe complained.

Catherine looked up quickly. "Joe!" she said, alarmed. "I didn't see you there!"

"Obviously." Joe chuckled. "Anything you'd care to share with me, Radcliffe?"

"No!" Catherine said quickly. "What did I say – what did you hear?"

"Stuff about sex, and culture, and somebody not saying stuff to you." Joe said. "What is it? Find out about 'the birds and the bees' a little too late?"

She playfully swatted him, relieved that he hadn't overheard anything that could jeopardize the safety of the Tunnels, though she was pretty sure Joe would keep the secret safe. "No, I know all about 'the birds and the bees'."

"Obviously." Joe said again, peeking at her stomach.

"Stop it!" she laughed. "What do you want?"

"I'm worried about you." He said flatly. "For days you've been walking around this office, muttering to yourself, looking miserable, always distracted, and have been taking a lot of days off. Is something the matter, Cathy?"

She sighed. "You wanna know the truth?"

"No; I want a lie." Joe said sarcastically.

She nodded, biting her lip. "I'm just having a lot of problems right now. Joe…"

"Yes?" he leaned closer to her, so that the whole DA's office needn't hear their conversation.

"Never mind." She said quickly. "Forget about it."

Joe nodded, still looking concerned. "All right, I'm backing off. But if you need anything, you have my number."

She nodded. "Thanks, Joe."

"Anytime." He said with a smile.

A man came into the room with a cart of sandwiches. "I've got sandwiches!" he called out. "Hey lady, you look like you need a chicken sandwich."

Catherine's face fell. The thought of eating a chicken sandwich made her sick for some reason.

"Ma'am? A chicken sandwich?" he repeated, clearing throat loudly, trying to make Catherine realize that there was a message in the sandwich from someone Below.

She nodded and took the sandwich offered to her. Inside was a small piece of paper, simply reading "I love you" in Vincent's elegant handwriting.

She suddenly noticed Joe leaning over her shoulder. "Who's that from?" he asked curiously.

"A friend." She said, pressing the note to her chest. "A very good friend."

"Must be." Joe said. "To give you a chicken sandwich and the rest of us peanut butter."

"You don't need the cholesterol." Catherine laughed giving him the uneaten chicken sandwich in exchange for his peanut butter, which sounded much better tasting. "Now if you'll excuse me Joe, I've got some work today, and I'm assuming you do too?"

"Yeah." Joe said, going into his office. "If I eat any paper, it's your fault, okay?"

"Okay, you can sue me." Catherine laughed, returning to her work. Vincent had gone through all that trouble to see that she got his message, and it brightened her day tremendously. She suddenly felt sorry for her actions the previous night and let her feelings flow freely, letting their bond do its job. She immediately felt his relief, and she smiled. How had she gotten so lucky? 

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

_Vincent, may I come in?_ Vincent heard a voice from far away calling. _Vincent, may I come in? _Where was that voice coming from? Who was it? _Vincent!_ There is was again!

Vincent opened his eyes, awakening from his sleep. He heard Father outside his curtains, calling out to him.

"Vincent, on the count of three I'm coming in if you do not answer me." Father sounded a bit worried and a bit testy. "One, two, three!"

Father stepped into Vincent's chamber to find Vincent in his bed, still half asleep. "Still abed at this hour?" Father asked, beginning to light candles around Vincent's chamber, hoping the light would help waken his son.

Vincent moaned and tried to cover his eyes to hide the light. "Go away, Father." He moaned.

"You know I can't let you do that, Vincent." Father returned, continuing to light the candles. "Come along, get dressed! You haven't slept this late since you were sixteen. What's the matter?"

Vincent slowly sat up against his pillows. "Catherine had another rough night last night." He said. "She kept me up half of the night."

"Emotional?" Father continued to light the candles.

"And had morning sickness, I believe." Vincent pulled himself out of bed and began putting his clothes on.

"We cannot imagine what she was going through last night." Father said, pulling the covers back over Vincent's bed. "Only a woman can, I imagine."

"Father, you needn't make my bed." Vincent tried to stop Father.

"Vincent, don't you remember?" Father said, assisting Vincent in putting on his shoulder pads.

"Remember what?" Vincent asked, puzzled by Father's actions.

"Catherine's cousin Meg is coming today." Father said flatly.

Vincent froze. "Vincent?" Father tried, knowing his son was probably now worried, and perhaps scared, out of his wits. "Vincent?"

It was a week later, Friday the 28th. Meg would be arriving from Indiana that night to New York. Catherine assured Vincent that everything would be fine, and that it was for the better. Vincent agreed with her on the latter, but wasn't so sure what Meg would think of him, of his world?

Vincent seemed to get a hold of himself, but still seemed nervous. "What time does the plane land, Father?"

"Five o'clock." Father told Vincent.

Vincent looked at his watch. It was 11:01AM. "All right then," Vincent said, beginning his habitual pacing. "She will get on the plane at 3:00. Supposing the plane is late, she won't land until 6:00."

"You'd better count on 5:30." Father suggested.

"She will land at 5:30," Vincent continued. "It will probably take a half hour for Catherine and her to find each other and go through baggage."

"More like an hour." Father gave his input.

Vincent sighed, continuing with his mental schedule. "So, at six-thirty, they will leave the airport and go to Catherine's apartment. From what I have seen from New York traffic-"

"It will take an hour, at least." Father helped his frantic son out.

"They will stay at the apartment for twenty minutes, getting settled in, making it 7:50. Then they will go out-to-eat, which will take them…" Vincent' voice trailed as he tried to imagine how long it would take to go out to eat, something he had never before experienced.

"I'd say about two hours." Father said gently, feeling sympathy for his son, knowing that the events that occurred within the next twenty-four hours could perhaps affect Vincent for the rest of his life, depending on how Meg took the news and what she did about it. But there really was no other choice than to let her know. Catherine was likely going to sacrifice most of her family to keep Below a secret; she shouldn't have to keep it a secret from her closest relative. And Meg could help greatly in explaining what happened to the child, and assisting in childbirth.

"9:50." Vincent continued with the mental schedule. "And perhaps an hour back to her apartment?"

"Give or take, yes." Father nodded. "Making it eleven o'clock. Meg had a long flight, so they will probably retire for the evening. They probably won't visit us until tomorrow morning."

"A long flight? Didn't she just sit down the whole time? Why should she be exhausted?" Vincent asked himself, slightly puzzled.

"Not physically exhausted; more of an emotional, mental exhaustion." Father explained. "The kind of exhaustion you have been feeling of late."

"At what time, do you suppose, they will come tomorrow?" Vincent pulling socks over his bare feet as quickly as he could.

"Eight or nine, perhaps." Father said. "Careful Vincent!" But it was too late – Vincent had pulled the sock over on his foot too hastily and a claw had ripped his sock.

Vincent sighed. "What tells me that Mary is not going to be happy about this?" he held up the sock.

Father laughed. "She will find it funny, as I do."

"Funny?" Vincent questioned.

Father nodded. "A nervous young man in love, meeting his love's relatives. There was a time where we thought we may never see the day."

Vincent sighed as he carefully put on a different pair of socks and then quickly laced up his boots. Then he stood up and held his arms out. "Well, now you have seen the day – satisfied?" he asked, half jokingly.

"Very." Father said, reaching up to give his tall son a kiss on the forehead. "You will do find, Vincent, just fine. I have never seen you this unsettled, so apprehensive, so nervous. You really needn't be so worried."

"All of the worry is not my own." Vincent confessed. "Catherine is worried as well."

"You will both do fine." Father assured him. "Now Vincent, what are your plans for the day?" Father asked, knowing that Vincent's plans included all work and no play, to make the Tunnels look attractive as possible for someone from Above.

Vincent sighed, pulling out a piece of broken glass he had hidden in shame under his bed. He looked at his reflection in it and sighed, handing the glass to Father. "Any suggestions?"

Father gave his son a hug. "Vincent, you do not have reason to be ashamed. You look fine. We've been over this a thousand times in the thirty-some years."

Vincent turned away from his father. "No, I don't." he said quietly. "I don't look fine. If I looked fine, there would be no reason for me being down here in the first place, trapped, like a bird in a cage."

"Trapped?" Father questioned. "No, Vincent, son. Not trapped – safe. I'm sure you do not need me to remind you of the time that student caught you Above and captured you?"

Vincent shook his head 'no', that Father did not have to remind him of that time. He remembered it all too vividly.

"You were literally behind bars. You couldn't eat when you wanted, sleep when you wanted, bathe when you wanted, speak when you wanted, and there was no way out. That is trapped, Vincent. Here," Father gestured to Below. "You can do all of those things as you please – and we care about you."

"But if I were a normal man, I would not have to worry about being trapped Above or Below." Vincent said. "Devin has no worries of being treated by an animal by anyone!"

"And Devin doesn't have a woman who loves him like Catherine loves you." Father gently reminded his son. "And if you didn't look the way you did, what are the odds that you would have been abandoned outside _St. Vincents_? I would have only had one son; I would have never known the existence of my other son, the son that is my strength, my confider, and my best friend all in one. Everyone was born the way they were born for a reason, Vincent. There is no need to be ashamed."

Vincent sighed. "I think I'm just a little tired, Father."

"You look like it." Father said, eyeing Vincent's worn-out looking state. "Come along; let us go see if William has something for you to eat. You'll feel better after you have eaten, and your thoughts will be more in order once you've waken up."

Vincent nodded, knowing that Father was all too right. "I have so many questions on my mind right now," Vincent confessed. "Whether we're doing the right thing, letting Meg know of our existence, what she will think of me, if she will give away our secret, and what will become of every one of us if she does." He looked at Father in the eyes. "I am not the only one who cannot live without this place, Father. I can name quite a few others."

"I know." Father said. He couldn't help but chuckle.

"What is it?" Vincent wanted to know.

"Oh, I was just wondering how Mouse would function in their world." Father said with a laugh. "He got caught Above once and barely made it through that."

Vincent laughed along with his father. "Yes, Mouse is another one of my kind, one who cannot live without our world. Maria is another," he looked at Father seriously in the eyes. "She is so frightened of that world."

"Because so much bad things happened to her up there. The man, the man who molested her, is still walking free Above, from what I hear." Father shook his head. "She seems weary of any men at all coming close to her at all." He eyed Vincent. "Except for you. She bonded with you right away. Perhaps it is because she noticed that there was something different about you right away."

Vincent nodded. "That is an interesting thought, Father. Very interesting."

They talked of more things before they got to the kitchen, where William had kept Vincent's breakfast warm for him. And as late as it was, and how hungry Vincent should have been, he could only pick at his food, his mind whirling with thoughts.

_I trust Catherine's judgment. _He realized. _Why am I so worried about meeting her cousin? Or rather, her meeting me? What if I scare her so much she won't come back? She expects me to be so different than I am. I know she will be frightened_.

Father was thinking too, as he left his son in the kitchen and headed towards his own chamber. _Meg seems like a sensible woman, very smart and caring. I know Vincent is scared to pieces over meeting her, because he, Catherine and I both know that how Meg takes this could affect everything in the future. It will affect how well our world is kept a secret, it will affect Catherine's excuse for where the baby is, it will affect the rest of Catherine's pregnancy, the delivery, and then on. And it all pretty much rests on Vincent's shoulders – and he knows it. Most people would be able to accept that fact of our world, but accepting Vincent? That is only something very few people can do._

All the way back to his chamber, Father hoped and prayed for his son, for Catherine, for Meg, hoping everything would turn out fine, or should he say 'better than fine – better than best'?" 

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

Catherine ran around the apartment like mad, making sure everything was absolutely clean. Meg knew that Catherine wasn't that big of a neat freak, so Catherine didn't know why she was so intent on having the house clean as she could, but she supposed it was because she wanted to impress Meg. Maybe it would help soften the blow when she meets Vincent.

_What will I say to her tonight? _Catherine thought, still cleaning crazily. _I'll tell her, while we're out to eat, that one of my problems have to do with Vincent. I will tell her that I love him with all of my heart, as he loves me. I will tell her that we are perfect for each other. A perfect fit, measured to fit, like a glove. I will tell her that everything was absolutely perfect between the two of us, until the pregnancy. I mean, sure, I'll let her know we had our struggles, like when Elliot Burch tried to build that stupid tower, or when daddy died. And then I'll tell her though we're both happy about the baby, more than happy actually, our only concern is for her, how Vincent and her need to meet, and how we want her assistance during the delivery and want her assistance in 'ridding me' of the relatives, how we're concerned for her meeting Vincent, that he maybe be frightened. I'll assure her that he is the best man in the world, absolutely beautiful, but he is different. Nothing to be afraid of, but different. And then, later tonight, or perhaps it would be better tomorrow, I will take Meg Below and change her life. Rock her world. Okay, well, 'rock her world' might not be the best pun in the world, but it works, doesn't it?_

Catherine hardly knew what she was thinking, she was so worried. She didn't know exactly why, she knew that Meg could be trusted. She was just nervous as everyone was when someone new was introduced to their world, only this time, if something went wrong, it would be her fault. Totally and completely her fault. And of course, Vincent would think it would be his fault.

_Which, if anything did go wrong, it would very well be his fault. _Catherine realized as she feverishly wiped off the countertops. _She will probably accept the world Below easily enough, but people always have such a hard time accepting Vincent – I did. It's not fair for him though! He can't help what he is!_

She felt Vincent's worry through her bond, and then immediately willed herself to calm down. More was at stake for him than for her, and her getting him all worked up was not a good idea. After all, he had to deal with her hormone-induced emotions day in and day out, she could at least let him get worked up this time on his own. She made a mental note to visit Below today, to assure Vincent everything was going good, that everything was going to be all right, because she knew in her heart that it was going to turn out that way.


	13. Chapter 13

_Passengers, please fasten your seats in their full, upright positions, and put away all smoking materials. _The pilot said over the plane's loudspeaker.

Meg quickly did her seat the way it was supposed to, and watched as people around her extinguished their cigarettes. She wasn't a smoker by any means, but it wasn't like she was prejudiced of those who were.

She looked out of the plane as the jet landed at the airport.

_Wow, there are the twin towers!_ She thought excitedly. _And the empire state building! I wonder if I'll have time to visit those places today. Catherine mentioned she might have to work one or two days this week, so those would be the perfect days to!_

_She said something about going out to eat tonight. _She thought. _Will Vincent go along with us? Why is Catherine so afraid for me to meet him?_

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

Catherine paced back and forth in front of the large window as the passengers filed out of the airplane. She was so nervous about seeing her cousin! Well, not about seeing her, but more like, nervous about how the night would go. Catherine had to summon up the courage to even get up the guts to mention Vincent to her cousin, not mention let her in on _everything_.

_Your pacing, just like Vincent, _Catherine realized. _Stop it, before you make a habit of it!_

She couldn't help but smile at the thought of Vincent rubbing off on her. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing, was it? She kind of that it was a good thing, to be considered as a compliment.

"Catherine!" a voice behind her shrieked excitedly.

Catherine turned round and fell into the arms of her cousin. "Meg!" Catherine exclaimed, giving her cousin a gigantic hug. "How are you? How was your flight!" she pulled away to inspect her cousin. "You look so good!" she gave her cousin another big hug.

Meg laughed. "One question at a time," she pushed her curly blonde hair behind her ears. "You look great, Cathy!" she said. "Have you been waiting for me long?"

"No." Catherine said. "Not long. C'mon, let's get to baggage!"

"I didn't bring all that much with me." Meg walked with her cousin, their arms slung around each other's shoulders as if they were teenage girls again. "Just a few bags that I could carry – I didn't want to have to fight for my luggage."

Catherine's eyes widened as she looked at her cousin in surprise. "You mean that duffel slung of your shoulder and that bag you've got? That's _all_ you brought with you for a week's stay?"

Meg nodded. "I don't need much, and if I find I need anything, I'll just buy it while I'm here."

Catherine smiled, giving her cousin another hug. "You've always been like that." She said. "Packing so much in so little space."

"Hey, what can I say; it's a talent!" Meg joked.

"Let's go." Catherine said suddenly, clasping her cousin's hands. "We'll get home so you can freshen up, and then maybe we can go out to eat. An Italian restaurant just opened six blocks away from my apartments, and I hear it's _really_ good."

"Yum." Meg said. "After that crap they served on the airplane, I'll eat just about anything! How far away is your car parked?" she asked as they headed out the doors of the airport.

"I didn't bring my car." Catherine replied.

"You didn't?" Meg asked in shock. "How did you get here then?"

"I took the subway." Catherine laughed. "It's much easier than driving – and is quicker too around this time of day." She glanced at her watch. "See – its 5:30. Traffic jams will be all over the city right about now, I swear."

"How far away is it to the subway station?" Meg asked, taking bigger steps to match up with Catherine's. She wasn't accustomed to moving quickly on the New York streets, as Catherine was.

"Not far." Catherine replied. "It'll only take us a few minutes if we take our time."

"Let's take our time then!" Meg exclaimed. "Jeez, you New Yorkers walk fast down your sidewalks!"

Catherine laughed. "Jaywalking? Most New Yorkers do it at one time or another – you'll be an expert by the time its time for you to go home."

"That's the problem." Meg explained. "I'll go home for fifteen years, come back and will have forgotten everything I learned about life in this city."

"Don't worry; the city will have changed so much between now and then, you'd have to adjust anyways." Catherine stated.

"Not too much can change." Meg said. "It's not like Broadway will disappear – it's not like it won't still be the largest city in the U.S. – it's not like the World Trade Center will no longer be here."

"I guess your right." Catherine answered her mind elsewhere. It was pretty obvious to Meg that her cousin had a lot on her mind.

_Should I ask her about it?_ Meg wondered. _No, not when I first got here – I don't want to seem like I'm trying to pry. Maybe we'll talk about it tomorrow or the next day, or I'll just wait for her to bring it up. Yes, just wait for her to bring it up – have some tact, Meg._

Meg looked around at her surroundings. It seemed like the sidewalks and streets were so packed that they could hardly move! The air smelled somewhat of gas, cigarette smoke, hot dogs, something foul and something so _big city like_. It was uncanny, Meg thought, how one place could smell of so much.

"Would you car for a ride, miss?" A man asked Meg as Meg and Catherine walked along. He motioned to a blue car, which had the words TAXI painted on it.

"No thanks." Catherine said. She pulled Meg away from the man before Meg even had a chance to open her mouth.

"You don't want to risk being cheated – or much worse." Catherine whispered so her cousin.

Meg nodded, glancing backwards cautiously at the man, who was talking to an elderly man walking by.

"The only good taxis are yellow ones, with special license plates, special stickers on the windshield, and have a divider in between the driver and the backseat." Catherine went on to explain. "Real NYC taxis are like that. The guy who just asked to pick us up, those kinds of cabs is known as 'gypsy' cabs."

Meg again nodded. "I was going to turn him down anyways, but still. I've got a lot to learn about New York City life, don't I?"

"More than you know." Catherine couldn't help but mutter under her breath.

"What did you say?" Meg asked. "An ambulance just went by – I couldn't hear you."

"I didn't say anything." Catherine said. "But hey, here we are at the subway station!"

That's when Meg was absolutely sure that something was wrong. More than sure. Catherine certainly was not acting like herself.

_But she said she wanted to talk about while I'm here, _Meg reminded herself. _She'll bring it up in her own good time._

_She knows I'm acting strange, _Catherine thought as they moved along. _And she's dying to know why, I know that. I've _got_ to tell her tonight, before I explode!_

_But what if she doesn't bring it up by Thursday?_ Meg continued to wonder. _Should I question her about it then?_

_I hope she doesn't think I'm in serious trouble, _Catherine dodged two foreign-speaking men, keeping Meg right beside her. _I hope she's not worrying at me. _She glanced at Meg's face. _Okay, so she's worrying about me. I'll tell her tonight – first thing after we're done eating._

_I hope she knows she can trust me. _Meg realized. _Maybe she doesn't fully trust me._

Meg turned to Catherine. "Cathy?"

"Hmm?" Catherine replied, boarding the subway with her cousin.

"You know you can trust me with anything, right? Things that I won't even discuss with Mike if you'd prefer me not to."

Catherine nodded, blinking back tears, grateful for her cousin's loving concern. "Yes, I know that. I'm just… not as ready to talk as I thought I was. I'm hoping we'll be able to talk tonight over dinner."

"Tell me whenever you want to, dear." Meg put her arm around Catherine and gave her a squeeze lovingly, as if she were 20 years old instead of only weeks. "Don't let me push you if you're not ready."

"If I don't tell you by Wednesday, force me to tell you." Catherine stated. "But let me assure you, I'm not in trouble or anything." She quickly added. "There's just something that… that I need to tell you, that I need to talk about."

"Well, know that I'll support you in everything." Meg answered. "So long as you're not running for being a Democratic president, then I'll more than likely support the Republican." She added on a lighter note.

Catherine laughed, knowing that while Meg didn't care for law and politics that much, she was a proud Republican, a real patriot. "I promise you, I'm not running for president."

"Is it one of those 'good friends bail you out of jail, but the best kind is sitting beside you' kinds of things you need to talk about?" Meg's eyes twinkling. "Because even though there's nothing more I'd like than to be sitting in a cold, dirty, jail cell with you, I have a husband and two kids to get home to."

Catherine again laughed. "You can brighten anyone's spirits, can't you?"

Meg shrugged. "I try. So, tell me more about the baby." She said as she eyed Catherine's stomach, which had just begun to swell ever so slightly in the past few days.

Catherine's heart started beating 90 miles-per-hour, knowing that if she wasn't careful, she could spill that beans at the wrong time, an the wrong way. But at her growing alarm, she felt Vincent's worry, tension and heart pounding to a good 500 miles-per-hour, at least, so she willed herself to calm down, for his sake.

"Sorry, what'd you say?" Catherine stalled.

Meg looked at Catherine carefully. "Catherine, are you feeling okay?"

Catherine nodded. "I feel fine, just a lot on my mind, what with you here, and the baby and all."

"The baby," Meg tried to get back on track. "So, your two months pregnant, about. How prepared are you?"

Catherine shook her head. "Not at all. Haven't got any clothes, any materials, any toys, any advice or pregnancy books, zilch." She laughed a bit self-consciously. "Perhaps I should start building up my collection soon?"

Meg nodded, her forehead creased. "I should think so. So, have you picked out a name yet?"

Catherine shook her head. "I asked Vincent to pick out the name, but he seems to feel that it should be my job."

"You still live in the same apartment, right?" Meg wanted to know.

"Yep." Was Catherine's reply.

"Does Vincent live with you?" Meg asked innocently.

"I wish." Catherine found herself saying.

"I figured that the two of you would be living together." Meg said, with her eyebrows rising in question.

Catherine sighed. "There's nothing more I'd like more at the moment, and the same for him. I'm afraid it's complicated though."

"How complicated?" Meg asked with growing concern. "Is he married?"

Catherine shook her head ferociously. "Certainly not! He's never been married, isn't married, and…"

"And?" Meg prodded.

"And I'm starting to have my doubts he ever will be." Catherine admitted with a sigh.

"Gay? Bi?" Meg asked, trying to remain tactful but not doing a good job.

"No!" Catherine shook her head even harder. "Like I said, he wants me as much as I want him, more if it's possible. It's just… complicated." She shook her head a bit slower. "I've said too much. Don't worry about me and Vincent though, Meg. He's a good man, the best, the just perfect for me. And we're not 'breaking up' by any means." Catherine couldn't help but smile, wondering how 'breaking up' would be possible, what with their bond and all.

Meg nodded. "You do understand though, Catherine that I can't help but be very concerned about you. You aren't thinking of…" she didn't know if she dared mentioning it.

"Of what?"

"Catherine, this is something you wouldn't do, but I'm just going to guess one more thing; you're planning on keeping the baby, not giving it up for adoption or anything?" Meg held her breath, knowing that if that was the case, Mike would agree to adopt Catherine's baby on the spot.

"No, no." Catherine said. "I would never do that _or_ abort my baby, no, never."

"Look, I'm not trying to play _20 Questions_ here," Meg said. "Or trying to pry, but I'm just really concerned; you and Vincent are happy together right? There is no 'other man' or 'other woman' is there?"

"No!" Catherine exclaimed. "I wouldn't give Vincent up for all the George Harrison's in the world! And he wouldn't give me up for all of the…" she searched for a famous person in her mind that Vincent might have crushed on at one time or another, but couldn't come up with anyone, so she just left it blank. "No, Vincent and I are fine. Like I said, it's complicated."

"I'm sorry, but now am I not only concerned, but my curiosity has been piqued." Meg apologized.

"Understandable." Catherine said. "If I were you, I would have already strangled me out of frustration by now."

"Let's be glad you aren't me then." Meg said decidedly.

Both women fell into a hopeless state of giggles, even though the joke wasn't all that funny. Even though Catherine was real stressed, and Meg really concerned, they couldn't help to just be so excited to be together again, talking and laughing like old times. Talking and laughing like they were sixteen again. 

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

Vincent pulled at his hair frustratingly, pacing back and forth in Father's chamber. Father looked up from the maps he was studying. "Vincent," Father said. "Whatever is happening, we cannot do anything to change. Catherine and Meg are the only ones in control of the situation right now."

Vincent looked at the clock ticking on Father's desk. "It is 5:30 and they are nearing Catherine's apartment building. Catherine is so worried, so apprehensive!" he willed himself to not strike at anything, which was something he certainly felt like doing right now. Physically hitting something – hard. Using his powerful strength to break something. Vincent couldn't explain why he felt the need to do that so often when he was frustrated, but he knew that it had much to do with why he was the rest of the way he was, and also, as Father mentioned before, everyone works out their anger in different ways;; Vincent was definitely the type to work it out physically.

Catherine's worries suddenly melted away, or at least became a lot less strong. Vincent sighed. How was he to know when he was supposed to be worried or concerned with Catherine's emotions acting the way they were?

"Why don't you go work on the baby's chamber to work off some of that energy?" Father suggested, seeing his son's frazzled state.

Vincent shook his head. "Much of it is finished."

"Well, go haul rocks or something." Father suggested, ticking things aimlessly off a mental list. "Go see if anyone needs help, go read a book, go clean up your chamber. This one will really use up your energy; go play with the children. Give them piggyback rides and whatnot."

Vincent shook his head. "I should not get them so riled up when it is so close to many of their bedtimes."

Father sighed, looking at his son's ragged state. Vincent _had _been working hard _all day_, whether he was working on the baby's chamber, helping the Tunnels look more attractive than usual for company, doing heavy jobs for much of the people Below. He had labored, panted, and used his hands until they were almost raw, even though he wore gloves.

"That's it!" Father said. "Go get cleaned up! Go bathe; go put on a fresh change of clothes. Go get cleaned up so you can look your best when Meg gets here."

"My best?" Vincent asked, dryly. "I hardly see how that would do much good."

Father raised his eyebrows, knowing that his son was acting very much out of his normal character, knowing that he was not acting himself. Usually when that happened it was a sign of something not so good.

"Vincent," Father said slowly. "Please listen to yourself, and calm down. Please."

Vincent took several deep breaths and finally shook his head in shame. "I am sorry, Father. I did not intend any disrespect-"

"It's Catherine again, isn't it?" Father interrupted.

Vincent nodded. "She seems to be very testy, very on edge right now. I am afraid her emotions have been triggering mine of late, and-"

"I suspected so." Father said. "Er, Vincent? When you know that your personality changes are because of Catherine's mood, please let me know. The, er, sickness could come back at any time."

Vincent again nodded. "I will try to keep that in mind." He turned and started making his way out of Father's chamber, but stopped and turned around. "Father, this visit of Catherine's cousin, you do know, could affect my life –everyone's lives here – forever."

Father nodded. "Every time someone discovers our secret, Vincent, everyone's safety is jeopardized – yours especially, of course." He tried to cover up what seemed a bit awkward up with a cough. "But Catherine would not lie to us about her cousin, and you know Catherine's heart. I do believe Meg can be trusted."

Vincent nodded. "Yes, I have every belief in her keeping our secret, but when it comes to her approving of me…" he searched for words. " I know what Meg thinks will not change Catherine's heart. I am just… concerned that if she is too frightened, or does not like me, then…" he shook his head. "I cannot have what may become one of Catherine's only relative to acknowledge her to shun me. I cannot ruin Meg's relationship with Catherine, I _cannot_. And yet, if Meg is too frightened or does not grow to see past my flaws… I will be doing just that." He finished.

Father nodded. "I know, Vincent. Much is at stake, for you as a person, for Catherine as a person, for you and Catherine together, for everyone Below. But I have every faith that it will turn out all right."

Vincent nodded, turning to go again, but just when he was almost out the door, he stopped again and turned back. "Father," he began slowly. "Do you think that if I clean up, it will make any difference?"

Father nodded, trying to block the overwhelming sympathy he had for Vincent lately. He couldn't understand it; he normally didn't harbor much sympathy, but lately, after 'the sickness' and Catherine's pregnancy news, he had been feeling more and more sorry for his son. Perhaps he was realizing what Vincent went through day by day, that Vincent's life could never be normal, that Vincent struggled through many things that seem so simple to other people, such as looking in the mirror. That the good kind of self-pride that everyone should have was somewhat lacking in his son.

Father nodded stronger. "Yes, Vincent, I think it would." He said softly. "But remember that 'beauty is in the eye of the beholder', that Meg certainly knows to look deeper, and that no matter what happens, whether Meg comes tonight or tomorrow," he paused. "That every one of us Below, Catherine, and everyone of our Helpers care about you Vincent, is proud of you, and we don't see any unusual flaws at all; just a man, a very special, gifted man."

Vincent nodded, somewhat grateful for his father's encouraging words, something it seemed he needed more than ever of late. "Thank you, Father." He said softly, leaving Father's chamber. 

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"And here we are." Catherine flung open the door of her apartment.

"Wow." Meg breathed as she stepped inside. "Cathy, it's so beautiful!"

"Thanks." Catherine replied, taking Meg's bags and setting them beside the door. "Would you like anything? A cup of coffee, a piece of cake?"

Meg nodded. "A cup of coffee would be great, thanks."

"You can go wash up in the bathroom." Catherine stated, motioning to the bathroom that was inside her bedroom. "I cleaned out my top two dresser drawers for you, and some of my closet."

Meg smiled. "Thanks, Catherine." She disappeared into the bathroom.

Catherine sighed, so many different feelings, somewhat opposite feelings, so strong inside of her. She was so happy, so excited, that Meg was here. She hadn't seen her cousin in what, two years, and had missed her like crazy, even though they spoke on the phone nearly every night. And yet, she felt so angry, and she didn't know why. Not a Meg, not at Vincent. And she was so nervous! What was she to say to Meg? Tell her that Vincent is different, but not to be frightened? Hardly. That would just freak Meg out too much; give her a bad impression, maybe. And she felt so worried about the baby still. How was she supposed to take care of the baby when she was Above all day? And what if the baby was like Vincent – or worse?

She could feel Vincent's paranoid state through their bond. _Calm down,_ she told herself. _He's got a million more things to be worried about right now. Everything that happens tonight, everything in my future, his future, everyone Below's future, rests on his shoulders, and Meg's. What if Meg can't accept him the way he is?_

She knew that she was maybe overreacting, that even if Meg didn't like Vincent, she still wouldn't blow their secret. She would certainly be shocked, but she would come around, wouldn't she?

Meg came out of the bathroom, her hair brushed, make-up all touched up, and had changed her shirt. She looked really refreshed.

"You look great!" Catherine said, handing Meg her coffee.

"I don't look all that great, but 'thanks' just the same." Meg replied. "So, what time do you want to leave for that Italian restaurant you mentioned?"

"Right now." Catherine, slinging her purse back over her shoulder. "Let's go."

"So, is Vincent joining us for dinner?" Meg teased as the duo walked down the hall.

"No." Catherine said. "But we're going to meet him later tonight."

"Really?" Meg asked. "Is there any reason he cannot join us for dinner? I'd love to get to know him. I need to make sure he's the right guy for you." She added the last sentence with her eyes twinkling.

"Yes, there is a reason." Catherine sighed. "I'll… I'll try to explain over dinner."

They stepped outside the apartment building. "You said the restaurant isn't far – would you like to walk?" Meg suggested.

"Are you sure?" Catherine wanted to know.

"Maybe we can take a cab or something on the way back, if we don't feel like walking the distance. It's only five or six blocks, like you said."

Catherine smiled, glancing at her watch. It was 6:50PM. "Well, lets go." She said, leading the way down the sidewalk. 

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

Vincent felt his discomfort rising as he looked through his meager selection of clothes. What would he wear when he met Meg? Sure, it wouldn't make much a difference; she'd be scared out of her mind anyways, but maybe his choice of clothing could help her approve of him. She _had_ to approve, if not, Meg and Catherine's relationship could become strained, and Catherine was certainly counting on Meg's help through some of the pregnancy situations.

He sighed. Should he wear the clothes he normally did, or his special occasion clothes for Winterfest? It wasn't something her normally thought of, but he felt that every decision he made could change the effect he had on Meg.

_Just be yourself, Vincent. _He told himself. _Do not try to be someone you are not. If you are not acting yourself, and she disapproves, you will not have given yourself the proper chance._

He quickly grabbed his change of everyday clothing and left his chamber, before he changed his mind. _It is amazing, how much I am bothered by my appearance so much of late. When I was a child, it rarely bothered me, and even after I met Catherine, I still was not always ashamed. But now that Catherine has gotten pregnant, and now that her cousin will be meeting me, I feel so self-conscious._

After he was through with the bathing, he went back into his chamber. He grabbed his comb and tried pulling it through his wet, tangled hair. He tried to work it through the knots gently, but eventually deemed it impossible and pulled the comb through his hair, pulling the knot and several other clumps of hair out besides. He ran in through other sections of hair, using the same method of just pulling the knots out, even though he knew it wasn't the wisest thing to do. Finally, he had broken so many teeth off of the comb that it hardly did any good right now. Disgusted, he flung it down on his table.

He knew he was being too aggressive on himself, but didn't really care right then. He was just so frustrated, frustrated with himself, with the whole situation. He didn't really know why, but it seemed like it was the kind of frustration that came out of much worry and concern.

Vincent glanced down at his hands. They were normal hands, with the exception of the fact that he had longer fingers than many other people, his hands were covered with a thin layer of red-blonde fur, and he had claws, instead of fingernails. He sighed, remembering that time as a child when he and Devin had a small fight, in which Vincent had struck Devin with his claws, giving Devin deep scars to this day. After Father had scolded Vincent, he had brought out some surgical tools to try to cut his son's claws down to a safe length. They were hard to cut and took great effort, but finally Father had them all trimmed and then sent his son to bed. But the next morning when Vincent awoke, his claws had grown fully back. Father had tried not to show his irritation, and again cut Vincent's claws again. But the next morning, they were back. After about a month of it, Father had given up, but gave Vincent a severe warning to _never, ever_ strike _anyone_.

"Perhaps I should try trimming them now," Vincent thought out loud. "Perhaps they will not grow back so quickly." He knew that the thought was in vain, that they most certainly would grow back. Father and Dr. Peter could make no sense of their unusual quick growth, so they dismissed it as another one of Vincent's irregularities.

"But they will not grow back for hours, at least." Vincent reasoned. "And if it can help not frighten Meg… it cannot hurt – it can only help."

He pulled a pair of scissors out and lined it up carefully on his left thumb. Taking a deep breath, he gently began to shut the scissors. The scissors did not break through the claw, so Vincent pushed down hard and harder until it did. And once it cut into the nail, sharp pain shot through Vincent's finger, up through his entire arm.

He roared before he could think better of it. He had felt worse pain, certainly, but it was so unexpected. Blood came spurting out from his finger tips, out from the short stub of a claw that was left. Vincent quickly did the first thing he thought of, and stuck his finger in his mouth, sucking on it to try to sooth it. Father had always warned Devin and Vincent not to do that, that the germs in the mouth will only infect the wound, but Vincent still did it in times of extreme pain, or to keep from crying out or roaring.

Vincent felt the taste of fresh blood in his mouth and quickly used his sandpaper-rough tongue to get rid of the blood off of his finger. He pulled his finger out and looked at it; within seconds blood was still coming out. _No wonder Father used surgical tools_. Vincent thought. _He must have known that this would happen._

"Vincent?" Vincent heard Mary outside his chamber. "Vincent, are you all right?"

Vincent turned to look at the doorway of his chamber. A curtain covered his door and a candle was sitting out in front of it, signaling not to come in.

"Vincent?" Mary asked, her motherly concern for the man growing.

"I am fine." Vincent managed to say through the pain, trying unsuccessfully to hide the pain in his voice.

"Vincent?" Mary asked again. "Vincent, you don't sound all right. Vincent?"

"I am fine, just fine." Vincent assured her. "Just a little… accident."

"I was walking down the corridor when I heard you cry out." Mary explained. "Do you need anything?"

"No." Vincent said. "I just cut myself, but I am fine."

"All right – be sure to let me know if you change your mind." She said and left.

Vincent growled under his breath, the pain still surging through him. What had he done to hurt his finger so? Maybe his plans to cut his claws hadn't been so brilliant after all.

He sighed somewhat in defeat as he left his chamber in search for Father. He found Father working busily on something in Father's chamber.

"Father," Vincent began. "Father, I…" his voice trailed as he clenched his hand into a tight fist, trying to hide the blood still pouring out his fingertip.

"Yes, Vincent?" Father asked. "What is it?"

Vincent didn't know what to say, but he knew he had to explain. "I was in my chamber, and-"

"Is that blood?" Father asked curiously, peering at Vincent's hand.

Giving up, Vincent wordlessly held out his hand for Father to inspect.

"Hmm," Father said, looking over Vincent's finger, grabbing a rag for the blood to drip on. "Trying to cut your claws, I see?"

"I was hoping they would stay short enough to look normal, at least until after Meg meets me." Vincent tried to explain.

Father nodded, understanding. "Well, it looks like you cut into the quick."

"What do you mean?"

"The quick is a part of a claw." Father explained. "As I learned when you were about ten, while doing my… extensive research."

Vincent nodded. "Continue."

"The quick is the part of a claw, or fingernail, more accurately. It is the live part of the claw, where the blood vessel and nerves live. It's like tissue." Father explained.

Vincent nodded. "The human nail does not have this quick?"

"Well, if you cut the humans nail down too far, it can be a bit sore for a few days." Father explained, showing Vincent his hand, where he had accidentally cut his nail too short just days ago. "But no, there is no quick. There is the cuticle though, but that is too far down where no one would ever cut."

Vincent felt slightly humiliated. "So the quick is something that only dogs, cats, and other animals generally have."

Father nodded. "Yes. But it does not mean a thing." He added the second sentence quickly. "We do not know a thing about your… your existence, your creation. Don't let you're… your claws bother you, Vincent. Everyone is different."

"As you've told me." Vincent said gruffly as Father dabbed hydrogen peroxide on Vincent's fingertip.

"And what do you mean by that?"

"I mean that you've told me all my life that I'm different, have treated me different than all the other children, drilled 'it cannot be' into my mind." Vincent explained. "I am not meaning to be bitter, Father, but it is true; you've always told me that everyone is different, and have treated me in such a way – different."

"I apologize if I have," Father started, wrapping a white bandage around Vincent's finger. "But you must admit that there are many circumstances that we face daily, where you must be treated different. I'm sorry if I have hurt you by treating you in such a way, but-"

"It is not that I mind." Vincent said reluctantly. "I can accept that I am different, Father. I have no trouble accepting it. But sometimes, living with it is hard. I usually can overcome, but since Catherine's pregnancy, I have been thinking on my differences – my appearance, the sickness, my self-control – and I am beginning to think…"

"Yes, Vincent?"

"It has been bothering me more." Vincent admitted. "I get so humiliated, so very ashamed. Sometimes I think I cannot bear myself, such a strong hate-"

"You cannot hate yourself, Vincent." Father interrupted. "If you do not love yourself, you can hardly love others. And it is unhealthy to have such hate – it kills people."  
Vincent nodded. "I am aware of that, Father. I try not to, but sometimes I get so ashamed."

"Don't." Father told him. "Don't. Everyone here Below loves you the way you are – we wouldn't have you any other way. Now," he finished wrapping Vincent's finger. "Go fetch me that black box under my bed. I'll trim your fingernails for you, if you'd like."

Vincent nodded, going over to the section of Father's chamber that was separated from the part that served as a study. He couldn't help but notice Father's use of the word 'fingernails' instead of 'claws'. Vincent was sure Father did that in attempt to raise Vincent's self-esteem.

Vincent knelt down and found the black box under Father's bed. He recognized it as the same black box Father had used when Vincent was ten, to trim his claws. He took the box and took it to Father, who had two chairs sitting across from each other, patiently waiting for Vincent to arrive with the black box.

Vincent gave Father the black box and carefully sat down on the sturdier of the two chairs, knowing that the larger and more stable chair was meant for him. Father sat down across from him and pulled out his equipment. Vincent cautiously extended his left hand and waited for Father to cut.

Father took the sharp tool he was using and carefully began to cut down on Vincent's claw. Vincent held his breath, automatically anticipating the pain he had felt earlier. But of course, Father knew what he was doing and cut the claw away painlessly, cutting it right before the quick.

"For now on, Vincent, if you'd like for me to cut these for you, don't hesitate to ask." Father said, continuing to cut away Vincent's claws. "I will do it for you, I promise; please do not attempt to do it yourself!"

Vincent again nodded, knowing his father only had his best interests at heart. "Not that it will make a difference." Vincent said. "She will be frightened of me either way. But it gives me a bit of peace knowing that one thing will look normal."

"Be at peace, Vincent." Father told him. "You have spoken to Meg before, over Catherine's phone, true?"

Vincent nodded. "Yes."

"She knows you then." Father said. "She knows your voice, your heart, before she knows what you look like. That will prove to be most helpful."

Vincent sighed, giving Father his right hand to trim the claws. "I wish there was something more I could do. To be normal, even only for a day…" he searched for the words. "Would be a dream, a dream come true. I would give so much for the opportunity, to walk freely Above with Catherine, see the sun, the blue sky, see the people, the city in broad daylight…" he shook his head. "It is only a dream though."

"But a dream worth dreaming." Father encouraged.

Vincent raised his eyebrows, not used to Father encouraging Vincent's dreams that they both knew were impossible.

"Dream what you wish, Vincent." Father told her. "Savor every moment of the dream. Don't get so carried away in your dreams, but do not stop dreaming. Write what you're dreaming down, so you will never forget it."

"I have not known you to encourage the impossible." Vincent commented.

"I am not encouraging the impossible; I am encouraging dreams. Dreams that cannot be, but dreaming them are harmless, so long as you do not get carried away." Father stated. "Sometimes we need dreams, to carry us through. Sometimes I wonder 'What if…' or 'what would happen if…' – dreams are not the wrong thing Vincent, but letting your dreams take complete control of you is. Just dream carefully, Vincent."

Vincent nodded. "Thank you, Father." He stood up and took the clippings of his claws from Father to throw away.

"If you ever want it done again, just let me know." Father once again warned. "You do not need to be trying to do it yourself."

Vincent nodded. "Catherine and her cousin are just now leaving for the restaurant."

"It's 6:50." Father stated, looking at his pocket watch. "Your assumption was 7:50, right?"

"Yes." Vincent said. "I was an hour wrong."

"Vincent," Father started, noticing Vincent's still knotted and matted hair. "Have you not combed your hair?"

"I was being rather aggressive," Vincent explained, somewhat embarrassed. "I was taking my frustration out on myself and did not bother to work the knots. My comb-"

"Vincent!" Father exclaimed, exasperated. "You know we cannot just go to the minute market and buy you a new comb! You must take care of your things!"

"I understand that, Father." Vincent said. "I know there is not an excuse for my actions, but Father?"

"Yes?" Father asked, irritated.

"I have not been myself of late, as we spoke of before." Vincent said. "I have been impatient, hostile towards myself, angry, frustrated, and anxious. Ever since Catherine's mood swings, it seems my moods change with hers. Not only do I know what she is feeling, but I have been having those feelings with her."

Father nodded. "Please try to keep yourself in check – that is all I can say." Father said simply. "Now, here." He handed Vincent his own comb. "You may use this – do not break it. I expect it to be returned in perfect condition."

"Yes, Father." Vincent said, bowing his head as he left Father's chamber.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"And so the police were just about to let them go when they decided to go through their trunk," Meg explained over dinner, telling Catherine what had happened to their cousin, Justin, of late. "And they found the lockbox with the gun in it."

"It was just a fake gun, right?" Catherine asked.

"Yes – Justin was directing a play at a nearby theater, and they needed a gun as a prop, so Justin had a fake gun in his trunk." Meg clarified. "So they handcuff him and take him down to the police station and after _hours_, they decide to let them go. And in that time, of course, they managed to lose Justin's drivers license."

Catherine laughed, knowing that that would be something their cousin would get into. "It kind of reminds me of the time a little boy acted like I ran over his leg with my car, and then stole my purse."

"Yeah, you told me about that." Meg remembered. "But you didn't tell me what ended up happening."

Catherine chose her next words carefully. "Well, he returned my purse and all that, and we got to talking, and I found out that he had some serious problems – more problems than any eleven-year-old should have. So, Vincent and I… we helped him to mend his problems."

"Vincent helped?" Meg sounded curious. "I can see how you could help; what with your working with the DA's, but how did Vincent help?"

"Remember that essay we had to write in high school, on heroes?" Catherine knew that it was time to reveal some information on Vincent.

Meg nodded, wondering where this conversation was going.

"Well, remember how you said that a hero made up of self-sacrifice?" Catherine jogged Meg's memory. "Well, I guess you could say that Vincent is a hero – mine, especially."

Meg looked confused. "Care to elaborate?"

"Vincent is the most…" Catherine searched for the words. "He's the most caring, generous, kind, loving, gentle, and peaceful person I've ever met. And though it seems sometimes that he has little self-control, if you look at it the right way, he has so much. It's… so hard to explain."

Meg shook her head. "No its not – you love him a lot, I can understand that."

"That's not it!" Catherine protested. "I mean, I do love him with _everything_, but my thoughts on how amazing he is certainly aren't love-induced. You'll find out when you meet him."

"English teachers can be more exciting than I thought." Meg stated.

Catherine sighed. "He's not exactly an English teacher. Well, he is, but he does so much more than that. He teaches English, literature, and other things of the like, he works in… construction type of things, he moves, he lifts, he breaks his back – all selflessly – doesn't get paid for any of the work he does."

Meg looked confused. "So how does he earn a living?"

_Tell her, _Catherine thought. _Quit running around in little circles and tell her! Tell her that he's different, and that he can't make a living the way one normally does. Tell her that where he is from, 'making a living' isn't necessary, and that everything he does is out of love for his family. His friends._

"He doesn't have to." Catherine blurted out.

"Okay, now I'm lost."

"I'll… I'll have to show you." Catherine realized that she couldn't just explain it to Meg. "But you have to promise that everything I tell you will be kept in your confidence, that everything you hear, do, and see above all things, will remain a secret, which you will not tell anyone."

"Not even Mike?" Meg checked.

Catherine hesitated, knowing how damaging keeping secrets in a relationship could be. "Well, for a little while." She said. "Only for a couple weeks or so, until you can get used to… what you're going to find out."

"Catherine, are you feeling okay?" Meg asked, very concerned.

"Yes, I'm fine." Catherine said. "Please, Meg – I'm not insane. I know it may seem like that, but I'm not. Just wait until after we eat."

Meg nodded, and then looking at her silver wristwatch. "It's 8:30." She said.

Catherine sighed. "So even if we left now, we wouldn't get back to the apartments until 9:30. And then, it will be too late – the children will be asleep, everyone else will be getting ready to retire…" she sighed again. "We'll have to wait until tomorrow."

"Catherine, Meg said, now very alarmed at her cousin's words. " Are you tired? Maybe we should grab a cab, go home and rest."

"Maybe that would be a good idea." Catherine said, slowly getting up from the table. She turned to her cousin, looking at her straight in the eyes. "I know it seems I'm talking nonsense, and I probably am, but that's because I'm nervous, not knowing how to explain this to you and all. Please bear with me until tomorrow? That is all I can ask."

Meg nodded. "Let's go – I'll pay for our meal."

"No." Catherine argued, leaving the bill on the table. "I will – it's my treat."

"Well, then, I'll pay for the taxi." Meg said decidedly.

"Deal." Catherine gave in as they headed out the door.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"They are headed to Catherine's apartment." Vincent said worriedly as he quickly made his way into Father's chamber.

Father shook his head. "Vincent, don't fret – everything will turn out all right – just relax."

Vincent began pacing back and forth. "What if it doesn't?"

"That it doesn't." Father stated. "There's nothing we can do to change the outcome, Vincent. Waiting is all we can do."

"What if Catherine gets frightened and does not tell her? What will happen if Meg is afraid to follow her Below? What if-"

"There is nothing we can do." Father said. "Let us just hope for the best. You need to calm down, Vincent. You have_ never_ been this worried before." He cleared his throat. "Er, Vincent? I'm growing more and more concerned for you. Your bond has seemed to change somewhat these past few weeks."

Vincent nodded. "I know, Father. Like we discussed earlier, it seems instead of me _knowing_ Catherine's feelings, I feel them as well. And the feelings, while Catherine should be having them, sudden anger, frustration, happiness, worry, I, on the other hand-"

"Should not be having those mood swings." Father finished. "Vincent, we have assumed your bond is changing, or has changed because of her pregnancy, but what if…" he searched for the words. " What if it is not the bond? What if something is changing within you, Vincent? We, er, never know what to expect."

Vincent nodded. "I understand your worry, Father, but I would not worry – I am sure it has to do with Catherine's being pregnant and mood swings, and in seven months, it should have certainly worked itself out."

"Let's hope so." Father said. "Vincent, why don't you return to your chamber? When Meg is ready to see you, we'll come and get you."

Vincent nodded, and retreated back to his chamber, all the time anticipating what would be the visit to Below that could ultimately change his and Catherine's life together.


	14. Chapter 14

_What is that smell? _Meg wondered. _What is that sound? _She opened one eye and then the other. Oh yeah, she remembered now. She was at cousin Catherine's apartment. She had slept in Catherine's bed last night, with Catherine on the couch. Catherine insisted that the company have the bedroom.

_Mmm, bacon. _She smelled bacon frying. As she slipped out of bed and got dressed, she listened to the song Catherine was playing on the radio.

_If there's anything that you want  
If there's anything I can do  
Just call on me and I'll send it a__long   
With love, from me to you_

Meg smiled, recognizing John Lennon and Paul McCartney's voices. She wondered what Catherine was up to, besides obviously making breakfast

_Wow, I wonder if Vincent has heard this song before_. Catherine thought as she busily prepared bacon and eggs for her and her company. _Something gives me the feeling that this is something he would say to me._

__

I've got everything that you want  
Like a heart that's oh so true  
Just call on me and I'll send it along  
With love, from me to you

I got arms that long to hold you  
and keep you by my side  
I got lips that long to kiss you  
and keep you satisfied

_Ooooo, if there's anything that you want  
If there's anything I can do   
Just call on me and I'll send it along  
With love, from me to you_

To you, just call on me and I'll send it along  
With love, from me to you

Catherine wiped away a tear. Oh, if only her and Vincent's relationship could be normal. She enjoyed the uniqueness of their relationship, of course, and it's not like she was a sex maniac or anything, but a kiss here and there would certainly lighten her spirits so much.

_There that part goers again, _she thought as the bridge of the sound replayed. _'I've got lips that long to kiss and keep you satisfied' –gosh dang it! Come to think of it, we have never really kissed, unless you count the baby's conception, of course, which didn't really count. Oh, if only Vincent and I could 'do it' once more. Oh! How amazing that would be._

She felt Vincent's pain through their bond and quickly closed their bond off. True, she could not feel him half as well as he could feel her, but he had probably had a rough night. He had expecting him that evening and they hadn't shown up.

_Give us an hour, Vincent, and we'll be there. _Catherine thought. _And by the time noon is here, Meg will have met you and everything will be fine. No more secrets between Meg and me, I will have the amazing support and love I need from her during the pregnancy and delivery – everything will be perfect. Just perfect._

_I should keep the bond closed off, _Catherine realized. _If I keep it open, Vincent will know where I am, and what I am feeling. That will only excite him more, and make him more anxious. I'll just keep it closed off, until its time for him to meet Meg._

Meg stepped into the kitchen. "Yum, bacon." She said out loud. "Morning Cathy."

"Good morning to you too." Catherine said, giving her cousin a hug. "Sleep well?"

"Yes, very well." Meg replied, eyeing Catherine carefully. "Did you sleep well?"

Catherine laughed at her cousin's understandable concern. "Yes, I did sleep well, believe it or not." She walked over to the counter. "Would you like orange juice, coffee or milk to go along with your breakfast?"

"Orange juice, please." Meg said. "Where do you keep your plates?"

Catherine motioned to a cupboard. Meg went over to the cupboard and pulled out two plates, and then opened a drawer and pulled out two pieces of silverware. She sat them down on the table.

"Breakfast should be ready any minute now." Catherine said.

"Hmmm." Meg said, making her way over to the bookshelf. She pulled down the copy of _Shakespeare's Sonnets_ that Vincent gave to Catherine. "Still reading Shakespeare, I see."

"Don't open that book!" Catherine cried out quickly.

"All right, all right." Meg put it back on the shelf. "Is it valuable or something?"

"To me, yes." Catherine said softly. "Sorry I yelled – it's just special to me."

Meg nodded. "Understandable." She picked up _A Tale of Two Cities_. "May I open?"

Catherine laughed. "Yes – you may open any book on the shelf except for the _Shakespeare's Sonnets_ with the red cover."

"All right." Meg flipped through the book and sighed, putting it back on the shelf. "It's all Greek to me, or at least Old English."

Catherine shook her head. "It's not Old English – Old English was practically a different language then we speak now. Its more like an old, finely written book."

"Well, the oldest book I've ever read voluntarily is the Bible," Meg stated.

Catherine rolled her eyes. "C'mon Meg, you know the Bible doesn't exactly count."

"Oh, in that case, the oldest book I've ever read is the _Elsie Dinsmore_ series." Meg revised her previous statement.

Catherine put the bacon, eggs and orange juice on the table. "_Bon Appetite_." She said.

Meg and Catherine both sat down at the table. "So, what are your plans for the day?" Meg asked Catherine.

"_Our_ plans are to talk a lot, and let me pour my heart out, sharing my biggest secret in the world with you." Catherine said, helping herself to the eggs. "And right after that, or maybe simultaneously, I'm not sure; we're going to meet up with Vincent's family, so you can meet everyone in his family. Well, almost everyone." She added the last part, remembering that Devin, Winslow and many others would unfortunately not be present, due to them either moving away or dying, such as Devin and Winslow had.

"Okay." Meg said slowly. "Are we meeting Vincent? Will I meet him?"

"Yes." Catherine said. "I hope so."

"You hope so?" Meg asked. "Is he all right?"

"To me, and everyone else who knows him, he is all right. Better than all right – there are very few times when he has been better. But to one who does not know him, they might say that he's nowhere near 'all right'."

"I don't get it." Meg said.

"You will." Catherine said, taking a sip of her orange juice. "You will."

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"She may not come today, or tomorrow, or the next day." Mary reminded Vincent gently as Vincent just sat there, staring at his breakfast, letting it grow cold. "Give her time – she may feel that she needs to ease Meg into it."

Vincent shook his head. "It's not that that I am worried about." He said. "This morning, Catherine shut off our bond. Closed her heart in such a way that I cannot feel where she is, what she feels."

"Perhaps it's for the better." Mary reasoned, sitting across for Vincent, affectionately squeezing his arm. "Perhaps she does not want you to have to feel all of her emotions – you have been under a lot of an emotional strain of late. Welcome this gift she is giving you, this break, this rest."

Vincent again shook his head. "I cannot ignore the fact that she closed off the bond, Mary. Now I will not be able to know when they are coming, will not be able to prepare myself."

"Father and I have our doubts of her coming today." Mary said. "Do not worry about it. Now, let's just continue the day like normal. What are your plans for the day?"

Vincent shrugged. "Kanin and Mouse are going to help me finish the baby's chamber, and then the children have their literature lesson. Afterwards, I intend on going to check on that water leak, and fix it if necessary. And then there is closing off that Tunnel entrance. After that, there is a lesson in French, and-"

"Stop, stop." Mary interrupted. "Vincent, don't you think that is enough work for one day? If you aren't careful, you'll work yourself to death!"

"I will be fine, Mary." Vincent assured her. "These things need done, and it gives me something to do aside from worry about Catherine and the baby."

"Well, be sure to take it easy." Mary warned. "And let someone know before you go a great distance from our main Tunnels, and when you get back."

Vincent nodded, standing up from the table. "I will, Mary."

"Now, you sit down right now!" she protested, urging the large man to sit back down. "You cannot do all of that work without some food in your stomach! Sit and eat!" she motioned to the now lukewarm oatmeal on the table, sweetened with brown sugar.

Vincent obeyed the woman's orders and sat down, eating the oatmeal in small, polite bites, and trying to eat it slowly, the way that was polite, appropriate, the way Father had taught him to eat since he was able to use a fork. But he denied some of those rules, so he could finish could finish quicker.

Mary nodded her approval as he scraped the last out of his bowl and finished his coffee. "That's better." She said. "Stop and ask William for some fruit and cookies on your way out to fix water leak and the Tunnel entrance."

Vincent nodded, giving the woman a careful hug. "Thank you, Mary." And with that, he left to go meet Kanin and Mouse at the chamber they were working on the one right next to Vincent's chamber.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"Are you ready, Cathy?" Meg called to her cousin. She was standing by the apartment door, ready to go.

"Hold on a minute." Catherine stood appeared from the bedroom wearing jeans and a T-shirt, similar to what her cousin was wearing. She was holding ten Hershey bars. "I thought the children might like these." She said with a smile. "And you can leave that here." She added, referring to Meg's purse.

Meg put her purse down and followed Catherine out of the door. After Catherine turned and securely locked the door, she turned to Meg. "Let's go. And don't draw attention to ourselves." She started jogging down the stairs.

Meg shrugged, not knowing exactly what Catherine meant. Why were they going to be so secretive? Nevertheless, she followed Catherine down the stairs.

"Where are we going?" she whispered to Catherine once Meg lost track of how many flights of stairs they had gone down.

"You'll see." Was Catherine's mysterious reply.

Finally, they found themselves in the basement of Catherine's apartment building. "Why are here?" Meg asked, trying not to sneeze because of all the dust. Even though it was the summertime, it was kind of chilly in the basement.

"Like I said, you'll see." Catherine said, pulling the boxes away from the Tunnels entrance. "Climb down that ladder." She pointed to the steel ladder.

Meg stared at Catherine. "You're crazy."

"No I'm not – use the ladder, or the contraption to your left, if you prefer." Catherine referred top Mouse's gizmo that Vincent and Father insisted she use, even though she only a couple months along and felt _fine_.

Meg hesitated. "Are you sure?"

"Sure I'm not crazy? No, I'm not." Catherine answered on a lighter note. "But I'm plenty sure that you should climb down the ladder, yes."

"Okay." Meg said slowly, as she cautiously descended down the ladder. "Okay, I'm at the bottom."

"Good." Catherine said. "Stand back." She seated herself in the contraption and soon arrived at the bottom as well, with Meg.

"What's that?" Meg asked, referring to the contraption.

Catherine laughed as she stood up. "Vincent insists that I use it. He's paranoid over that slightest chance of me falling down the ladder."

Meg grew uneasy. "Catherine, where are we?"

"Let's go." Catherine said, leading the way, giving Meg a flashlight, and using another one herself. "I'll explain on the way."

Meg wearily followed Catherine. "Uh, Catherine, are we supposed to be down here?"

"Why not? There's plenty of room." Catherine joked.

"I'm serious." Meg said, also beginning to get afraid of the rather dark place they were in.

"All right, I'll explain." Catherine sighed. "But you promise to keep your lips sealed, right?"

Meg nodded, so Catherine continued. "Remember that time I went missing for ten days, and when I came back, I was all scarred up, and had no memory of what had happened to me during that time?"

Meg nodded. "You scared us to death, Cathy."

"Well, part of that was a lie, or all of it, actually." Catherine said. "Some men abducted me, thinking I was someone else, and cut me with a razor blade, leaving me in Central Park to bleed to death."

Meg gasped. "Oh my God!"

Catherine nodded. "I don't recall being thrown out of the van, but Vincent says I was."

"Wait, what does Vincent have to do with all of this?" Meg wanted to know.

"You'll see." Catherine said, hesitating, trying to remember which way to go. Once she remembered, she starting walking – and talking again.

"When I awoke, I had a couple of broken ribs, from the push out of the van, I suppose, and my face was all bandaged up." Catherine explained. "The bandages covered my eyes, my cheeks – the only part of my face that was free was my mouth."

"I heard someone tell me that it was going to be okay, that I was safe, that no one would hurt me. He told me that his Father and he had fixed all of my wounds and that I would be better soon."

"Vincent." Meg said, remembering that Catherine had mentioned that Vincent's dad was a doctor.

"Yes." Catherine said, happy to know that Meg was following along with the story so far. "Vincent watched over me every second. He explained that where I was, where he lived, was below the city of New York, under the streets in Tunnels, far below even the subways."

"Where we are now…" Meg's voice trailed.

"Yes." Meg said. "Not only do Vincent and his father live here, but many other people call these tunnels their home. They all live together, and they form a secret community, unbothered by all of our rules and our government."

"Isn't that illegal?"

"Well, this is one of those cases where 'what you don't know can't hurt you'." Catherine stated.

"Catherine, do you really expect me to believe all of this?" Meg asked Catherine, having her doubts.

"Why shouldn't you; its all true." Catherine assured Meg. "So that's why I have been so secretive for the past several years. I'm in love yes, there is a man in my life, yes, but it must be kept a secret."

"Why?" Meg continued to wonder. "I mean, okay, keeping this…" she searched for the words.

"The world Below, also known as 'the Tunnels'." Catherine supplied.

"Keeping the Tunnels a secret is… understandable." Meg said. "But why must he be kept such a secret? Why couldn't I have met him before now?"

"Because Vincent is… special." Catherine said. "It is hard to explain, but you'll find out what I mean in a few minutes, once we get to the community. The first thing we'll probably do is find Father – he's very eager to meet you."

"Father?" Meg questioned, not believing her ears. "Father? You mean Vincent's father?"

Catherine nodded. "Yes."

"Why do you call him 'Father'?" Meg wanted to know.

Catherine took a deep breath as she attempted to explain. "You can blame it on Vincent and his older brother, Devin. They both called Father 'Father', and eventually it caught on. Now everyone calls him that. His real name is Jacob Wells, but no one uses it, hardly."

Meg nodded. "I'm so confused!"

Catherine took her cousin's hand sympathetically. "I know; it's a lot to take in."

Suddenly they saw a shadow on the wall. "What's that?" Meg grabbed Catherine, frightened.

"I'm not sure." Catherine said. "Hello?" she called out. "Hello?"

"Told you it was Catherine!" Catherine heard someone say. "Told you!"

Mouse and Perchik bounded out of practically nowhere. "Catherine!" Perchik exclaimed, giving Catherine a smothering hug.

"Hey Perchik, Mouse." Catherine laughed, returning Perchik's hug and ruffling Mouse's hair. "Nice to see you two; what are you up to?"

"Perchik wants to find another raccoon like Arthur." Mouse stated proudly. "Mouse told him there is no other raccoon like Arthur, but Mouse will still help look."

"Mouse says its 'good as done'." Perchik exclaimed excitedly.

"Mouse, Perchik, this is my cousin, Meg." Catherine introduced the two boys to Meg. "Meg, this is Perchik, and this is Mouse."

"You are friend of Catherine's?" Mouse wanted to know.

"Y-Yes." Meg stuttered, not knowing what to make of the quaintly dressed, if not quaintly _named_ boys.

"If your friend of Catherine, your friend of Mouse." Mouse said with every confidence. "Let's go Perchik."

"Hold on," Catherine stopped the older boy and the younger one. "Where are you going?" she mainly addressed the elder.

"Up Top, Below, in between." Mouse seemed careful not to give out the details.

Catherine looked at Perchik. "And what did your parents say to this?"

Perchik didn't meet Catherine's eyes. "They don't mind."

"I'm assuming they don't mind because they don't know, correct?" Catherine said.

Perchik gaped at Catherine. "How'd you know?"

"Because I'm smart." She laughed. "Hey, don't you have some lesson to get to?"

Perchik shook his head. "Not for an hour."

"Well, turn back around and go home, and get to your lessons on time, and I'll see if your parents will let me give you this chocolate bar." She showed the candy to the eight-year-old.

"A whole bar of chocolate?" the boy whispered, in disbelief.

Catherine nodded. "If you stay out of trouble, don't tell anyone I'm here, and get to your lesson on time, I'm sure your parents will have no objections." She put her finger to the boy's lips. "But you mustn't tell the other children – I do not have enough for you all."

Perchik nodded. "Your secret is safe with me, Catherine. Bye Meg!" he called as he ran back towards the Tunnel community. Mouse just followed him.

Catherine chuckled. "Aren't they sweet?"

Meg nodded, realizing that what Catherine had just told her was true. "Yeah, sweet… who are they?"

"Perchik is an eight-year-old boy who lives with his family Below." Catherine explained as they walked on. "Born and raised here. He admires Mouse so much, and Mouse's pet raccoon, Arthur."

Meg stopped. "A pet _raccoon_?"

Catherine nodded. "Yes, but don't worry; Arthur is perfectly clean and tame – or so Mouse says."

"How did he come by with a name like Mouse?" Meg wanted to know.

Catherine shook her head. "I haven't gotten all of the details, but it seems that Mouse was hiding here for the first several years he lived Below. He lived here in secret, stealing their food and such until finally Vincent caught him. He's been living with them every since." Catherine thought a moment. "I suppose he got the name because in order to sneak around, steal food and such, he had to be quiet and sneaky – like a mouse. Anyways," Catherine continued. "He's very smart though; he made that contraption I came down here on."

"He did?" Meg asked, impressed.

Catherine nodded. "Impressive, huh?"

"What's that?" Meg asked, noticing a tapping sound for the first time.

"Messages, being sent back and forth." Catherine said. "Somewhat like Morse code, only better. It's a system that has developed over the past forty years. Constantly changing, being perfected, but what Pascal has going on right now seems best."

"Pascal?" Meg wanted to know.

"You'll find out." Catherine said. "He's someone else who lives Below; a very good friend of Vincent's."

"What are they saying?" Meg asked, listening to the continued tapping.

Catherine shook her head. "I have no idea. I can send and understand very few messages. Pascal is the expert – he runs the pipes, and Vincent, Father and everyone else Below, is fluent in what I call 'pipeish'." She laughed. "I suppose I'll have it figured out someday."

Meg shook her head. "I'm sorry, Catherine, but this is just too weird."

Catherine nodded. "A bit overwhelming and strange, huh? That's why I told you not to tell Mike right away; you should wait to tell him until all your thoughts are sorted out."

Suddenly they found themselves in the hall that leg to most of the chambers, or other halls. "Where are we?" Meg asked.

"We're hit the core of Below, the center of the community." Catherine explained. "C'mon, let's go find Father."

"Shouldn't we go find Vincent first?" Meg asked uncertainly, hurrying along to keep up with Catherine.

"No; we'd have to search too hard." Catherine said. "Vincent is always either in his chamber, Father's chamber, helping someone else out, helping this world be more safe and secure, teaching the children…" she shook her head. " In other words, breaking his back in the most unlikely place."

The curtain was not covering Father's chamber door, so Catherine slipped right in, Meg right behind her.

Meg saw an elderly man, maybe in his sixties or seventies, but was in good shape for his age. He had gray hair, brown eyes, and was wearing homespun and patched clothes, similar to what she had seen – what were those two other people she had met named? Oh, yes, similar to what Perchik and Mouse were wearing. The man, who she presumed was Father, was pacing back and forth, using his cane for support, muttering something in an angry tone.

"Father?" Catherine asked tentatively.

"Catherine!" Father looked up and started pacing. "I, er, I was just-"

"Pacing." Catherine interrupted. "Looks like your picking up nasty habits from your son."

Father chuckled, giving Catherine a hug. "Dear child." He noticed Meg standing there, slightly uncomfortable. "And you must be Meg."

"Yes Father." Catherine said, breaking from Father's loving embrace and giving Meg her hand, helping her down the narrow steps to Father's chamber. "Father, this is my cousin, Meg Scottson. Meg, this is Dr. Jacob Wells, Vincent's father, whom most of us just call 'Father'." She said.

Father shook Meg's hand. "It's good to meet you, Meg." He greeted her warmly in the British way of his. "Catherine as told us all so many things about you."

"She's said many kind things about you as well, Mr. Wells." Meg said, giving Catherine a kind of glare, since she had hardly told her anything at all about Father.

"Really?" Father looked surprised, looking from Meg to Catherine.

"Well, actually, she hasn't said much about anyone who lives… Below, I suppose you call it." Meg clarified. "But what she has told me of you is all good."

Father laughed. "Good to hear. Have you, er, seen Vincent yet?"

"No." Catherine answered for Meg. "We saw Perchik and Mouse on our way here, and the first place we stopped was here." She glanced sideways at Meg. "I was kind of hoping to, er, save the best for last?" she said, referring to Vincent.

Father nodded. "It looks like you might have to."

"What do you mean?" Catherine and Meg asked together.

Father sighed, somewhat angrily. "Vincent was helping Kanin move things around in Kanin and Olivia's chamber. Arthur came running under Vincent's feet out of nowhere, so Vincent accidentally dropped the steamer trunk he was carrying on his foot."

Catherine grimaced while Meg's mouth opened wide in shock. "Ouch. Did he break his foot? Is it okay?"

"A couple bones, yes." Father said. "He let me set it and wrap it up, but he still insists on working – he set out to go check on that water leak, and to seal an old Tunnels entrance."

Catherine sighed, frustratingly. "There is plenty of work he can do without walking, or at least putting to much dependence on his foot! Why on earth-"

"He wanted to keep physically busy as possible." Father told Catherine. "He is very apprehensive about your cousin's visit, and we all thought that him keeping busy would help keep his mind off of it – and keep him from… doing anything in his frustration, if you catch my meaning."

Catherine nodded, biting her lip. Meg finally spoke again, trying to understand the whole incident. "Mr. Wells," she began.

"Father." Father corrected her.

"Father." Meg tried the new word out. "Father, he _lifted_ a steamer trunk by _himself_? That's impossible!"

Catherine shook her head. "I told you Vincent was great – did I fail to mention he was strong too?"

Meg was still confused. "But no matter how strong he is, he lifted a steamer trunk? He couldn't do that if he were a professional wrestler!"

Catherine and Father laughed together. "Do not worry, Meg." Father assured her. "You will understand soon enough." Father turned to Catherine. "He will have to be back in two or three hours – the children have a French lesson then."

Catherine nodded. "In his chamber?"

"More than likely." Father said. "I do not have the details."

"Father," Catherine said. "Can you not tell anyone we're here, especially Vincent if you see him? I want everything to be as informal as possible, and I think Vincent is already worried enough knowing Meg is coming – knowing she's here may make it unbearable for him. I'd kind of like to surprise him."

Father nodded. "I'll try." He looked hard at Meg. "Meg, what did Catherine tell you of our world?"

"Not much." Meg said slowly. "She said that lots of people live down here, that it's a secret, so don't tell anyone, that people communicate with some type of Morse code…" she shook her head. " Something of the like."

"Did she tell you that it's a place of refuge for many people?" Father asked her. "That many of us can live nowhere else but here?"

Meg shook her head. "No, she did not tell me that."

Father nodded. "Well, now I'm telling you. Meg, people depend on this place for safety. Please do not tell _anyone _about our world – _anyone_."

"With the exception of Mike or course." Catherine interjected.

"Yes, tell your husband, of course." Father said. "There was once a man named Carson who lived Above, in your world, who helped us out. Gave us food and supplies when we needed it. He refused to tell his wife and children about our world, and it ultimately ruined his life. Today is a day that will change your life."

He looked at both Catherine and Meg, trying to make the situation lighter. "But if you want to learn to count to one hundred in French, today is your lucky day!"

Catherine laughed, her and Meg leaving Father's chamber. Meg shook her head in disbelief. "Vincent can hold a steamer trunk?"

"With no problem." Catherine replied, navigating her way to the kitchen.

"And can speak French?"

"Fluently." Catherine answered.

"And the children here, they could learn to count to one hundred in French – in one day?" Meg asked.

Catherine nodded. "If they want to. All of the children here are eager learners, and they owe much of their future success to Vincent."

"Wow." Meg breathed. "Vincent seems to be a very smart man."

"He is." Catherine agreed. "A pure genius, in my opinion." She looked sideways at Meg and giggled. "But then again, I must be biased."

Both women giggled as they went into the kitchen. There, they found William stirring a pot on the cast-iron stove.

"Hey William!" Catherine greeted her rather gruff friend, giving him a hug. "This is my cousin, Meg."

William shook Meg's hand. "It's an honor, ma'am."

"William cooks for everyone Below." Catherine explained to Meg. "A master chef."

William turned red at the compliment. "she's exaggerating, ma'am. Can I help you two with anything?"

Catherine shook her head. "Naw. I just wanted to introduce Meg to you."

"Has she met Vincent yet?" William sounded very curious.

Catherine shook her head. "I just wanted to save the best for last, if you catch my drift."

"The best for last." William mused. "That's an interesting way to put it."

"Are you and Vincent friends?" Meg asked.

William nodded. "Course we are. Everyone Below is friends with Vincent, and with each other. We have no enemies."

"Or hardly any, anyways." Catherine corrected, thinking of Paracelsus. "Do you know when Vincent left to go check on the water leak?"

"About a half hour ago." William stated. "He came in all bandaged up and asked for a bit of food to take along with him."

Catherine's heart sunk. "Food? How much food?"

"Not enough for any distance he would call 'a journey'." William stated. "A lot of fruit and a lot of pieces of bread, and a couple cookies, just enough for one meal. He'll be gone for lunch, I presume, and will be back in time for supper."

"All that food for one meal?" Meg sounded surprised.

William looked over at Catherine. "You ain't told her yet?"

"Haven't told me what?" Meg asked, exasperated, while Catherine shook her head 'no'.

"That Vincent's a pretty big man." William said, trying to cover up his blunder. "And he works hard. He needs a lot of food to keep up him strength."

"Uh-Huh." Meg said slowly. "Is it just me, or is there something about Vincent that I don't know about?"

"He's remarkable, and we'll leave it at that." Catherine said gently. "Come on, Meg – we've got more people and places to see." She waved to William. "See you later!"

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

Water squirted out, hitting Vincent right in the eye. Quickly, Vincent began doing what needed to be done to repair the leak.

_Why must you shut off our bond, Catherine?_ He wondered somewhat angrily. _I can accept the fact that you may not want me to feel your feelings right now, as they can be draining, but why now? Now when I need to know how you feel and where you are more than anything? Are you and Meg Below, or are you in the touring the Statue of Liberty?_

The leak stopped dripping water, allowing Vincent to pause to wipe the water off his face and shake the excess water off his mane. And then he continued to repair the leak – and think.

_Does she not understand that I do not mind knowing her feelings, or further, feeling her feelings? _He asked himself. _I truly do not mind – it is a blessing, to know what you feel, to know where you are. It gives me the assurance I need, to know that you are safe and happy._

"Hopefully that will hold up." He muttered to himself, walking away from the leak. Great, now he was soaking wet. He considered turning back to go to the Tunnels, to begin the tedious process of drying off and then changing into a clean pair of clothes, but he decided against it. That could wait – sealing up the old Tunnels entrance could not.

_Actually, it can. _A little voice whispered in Vincent's ear. _The entrance is not in anyone's way – it brings little danger to Below. It hasn't been used since 1963 and will not be used again in the future, simply because there is a newer and more convenient entrance. It doesn't _need_ sealing up; you just want an excuse to get out of the Tunnels, so you won't have to talk to anyone._

_That's true, _Vincent admitted. _You just don't feel like being around anyone. You aren't in the mood to have Father lecture you, to listen to Mouse's endless blabbering, and such. Why must they always want to lecture, blabber, and ask _you_ questions? If they are all so eager to go around talking, then why don't they talk to each other?_

Vincent knew he was thinking crazily, irrationally. He knew everyone Below loved him, and trusted him, saw him as a source of trust and wisdom. He didn't know _why_ he didn't feel like hanging around people – it just seemed that for the past few days, sometime he just could not stand other people's company!

Vincent found himself at the old Tunnels entrance, which had pretty much sealed by itself using the natural form of cobwebs. Nevertheless, Vincent found a huge boulder nearby and began using all his strength to move it, little by little, inch by inch, until it covered the hole.

_Push harder! _Vincent told himself, panting. _Harder!_

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"After my husband died, I was lost." Mary told Meg as Mary, Catherine and Meg played wit the children in the nursery. "I was young, in my early twenties, and already a widow. Somehow, I found myself here; when Father and John were just building this community, and now, many years later, I still have never had the slightest urge to leave."

"So you've never remarried?" Meg asked. "and you don't have any children?"

Mary shook her head. "I loved my Aaron too much to get remarried after he was Killed In Action. Aaron was your all around great man; kind, handsome, caring. But he could not give me children."

"But now you're all alone." Meg said quietly, trying to imagine her life without Mike, Bailee, and Cameryn.

"No, my dear, I'm never alone." Mary said, putting her hand on top of Meg's. "I have a family; a far bigger and close-knit family than I ever imagined."

"The other people who live down here." Meg said slowly. "But they aren't your _family_."

"After forty plus years, they are." Mary said gently. "Father had said something once…I want to say that it had something to do with a light bulb, but I cannot be sure…"

"He said 'we are all part of one another and that sometimes we forget that'." Catherine quoted. "Families work the same way."

"But why must you live down here?" Meg asked, not fully understanding. "Why not in the city?"

"Why not Above?" Mary said. "Because here, we do not have to follow _their_ rules, or do what works for _them_. Here we have a… freedom."

"Father also said once that 'hopes and dreams created this fragile world. Pride and vigilance maintain it, and it survives only because it is separate and apart. It is a refuge, where the disillusioned regain their vision. Where the lost become found. Where each one of us can explore the best of our being, the best of what it means to be... human. And to be alive'." Catherine quoted.

Mary chuckled. "You remember every word that man says, don't you Catherine?"

Catherine laughed. "Father is a very wise man – when something he says sticks out to me, I make a point to write it down and remember it."

Meg shook her head. "No disrespect intended, but this is all very odd, very strange, and very new to me. I-I don't understand."

"If you have any questions dear, feel free to ask us." Mary told the younger woman.

Meg pondered a moment. "Father started this whole 'Below' thing, right?"

"A group of people did, Father included, yes." Mary nodded. "Who made our world successful in the first place were Father and another man."

"Who was the other man?" Meg wanted to know.

"That's a long, long story." Catherine told Meg gently. "A completely different story. A… unfinished story, unfortunately."

"Jacob, or Father, if you prefer, had been fired, banned from helping people with their medical issues, just because he spoke out against certain things." Mary explained.

"What happened to 'freedom of speech'?" Meg asked, confused.

Mary shrugged. "It is forgotten when the time is convenient. However, Father and several other people founded this world, and it has been a haven to many people ever since."

"Father's wife," Meg spoke up again. "Is he married?"

Mary shook her head. "Margaret, his first wife, left him shortly after his medical license was taken away from him."

"But somehow Father had to get full custody of Vincent and Vincent's brother, right?" Meg said. "There's no other way."

"Margaret did not give Father any children." Mary informed Meg. "Devin, Vincent's older brother, was born Below to a woman named Grace. Grace died in childbirth."

"So Grace and Father had a… a thing for each other?" Meg tried to understand.

"More or less." Mary said. "Um, Meg? We don't generally speak of these things Below, but since you need to understand these things, and a woman always enjoys a touch of gossip, we'll discuss it, but you need to be careful not to openly discuss these things with anyone."

"With the exception of Mike, of course." Catherine broke in.

Meg nodded. "I wasn't planning on talking about it, so yes; not talking about it to other people is fine with me."

"Another thing," Mary said. "In your world, natural and beautiful things, such as… a baby's conception, is discussed freely and openly, even joked about. Here, in our world, they are never discussed. We just accept and move on."  
Meg nodded. "Got it." She glanced over at Catherine slyly. "So does that mean I can't press for details later?"

Catherine couldn't help but laugh. "Oh, don't worry Meg; these are the rules _Below_. Up in my apartment, we can talk about whatever we want!"

All three women burst into giggling fits, but finally regained their composure when Catherine spoke up again on a more serious note. "But I'm afraid there are no juicy details to me and Vincent's story," she told both women. "It's interesting, perhaps, but nowhere near romantic. We'll, er, discuss it later, Meg."

Meg nodded, a bit confused, while Mary nodded, Catherine and Father having told her the story.

"When will I meet Devin?" Meg asked, returning the subject back to the previous one.

Mary shook her head. "I have not seen Devin in quite some time. He no longer lives Below."

"What does he do for a living?" Meg asks.

"A bit of everything." Catherine replied. "Seriously and literally; a little bit of everything."

"So if Grace died in childbirth, who is Vincent's mother?" Meg asked innocently.

Mary took a deep breath. "We do not have the details on that."

"We'll talk about it later." Catherine whispered to Meg softly.

Meg sighed. "I feel like all I've been doing of late is prying into other people's business!"

"You have been." Catherine told her honestly. "But with good intentions and during a time when you _needed _to do the prying. Had you not pried, I may never have told you about the Tunnels, and I _needed _to. And as for Tunnel-Lore, the history of the Tunnels, is requires a bit of prying, but as long as we do it fairly and honestly, it a good kind of prying."

Meg nodded. "So I'm not being too nosy sounding, am I? Too hungry for gossip?"

"Not at all." Mary said. "You have not met Vincent yet, have you Meg?"

Meg shook her head. "Not yet; Catherine wants me to meet him last of all, for some reason. But I can't _wait_ to meet him."

Mary spoke directly to Catherine. "Are you sure this is a good idea, Catherine?"

Catherine nodded. "Yes, I am."

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

Vincent grimaced with pain with each step. Why, oh why, had he been so careless lately? The cutting off the claw ordeal was one thing, which by the way, was really, really sore, and the dropping the steamer trunk had been another, a complete accident. And yet still, he had insisted on working hard physically!

_Going to seal up a hole when it was completely unnecessary!_ Vincent couldn't believe himself. _What is the matter with you?_

He knew he had pulled a muscle in his back, and had managed to strain nearly every other muscle he had in his body when he moved that boulder. He knew that he probably had a couple of bruised ribs, maybe even a couple broken ones, and a gash on his head, from when the boulder nearly fell back on top of him. He knew he should have taken it easy, but he didn't.

_And now Father will say 'I told you so'. _Vincent said as he walked on, heading back to the main Tunnels. _He will lecture me, and tell me to take it easy for a couple days. And he'll be angry at me for those couple days, for sure._

Vincent stopped, leaning against the rock wall to try to catch his breath. Oh, the pain throbbing in his foot, his chest and his head! He had used a handkerchief to stop the bleeding in his head, and was trying to stop periodically to rest a bit, to make the journey home a bit easier, having a broken foot and wounded ribs.

_You must tell Father – you must!_ Vincent told himself, as he pulled out the food from his pocket and ate hungrily. _He has his suspicions, of course, but you must tell him! You must tell him, so everyone, or at least, most everyone, can be warned! I have not been myself lately always so angry, frustrated or upset. I have been so careless, showing myself no self-respect, which even someone like _me_ ought to have. And I've been thinking thoughts that are so irrational, and now, me wanting to do all of this heavy labor to work off my frustration and keep my mind off of Catherine is one thing, but now that I'm also using work as an excuse to get away from people, to retreat on my own? The sickness could be coming back, Vincent. Father should be alerted immediately._

_But Catherine can't know!_ Vincent realized. _The extra stress would be bad for her and the baby! But she must know! If she had known before the last time the sickness came… if she had only known, things could have been a lot different._

Vincent sighed, finishing the food and starting to head back towards home again. He still had not quite forgiven himself for what had taken place during the sickness.

_Tell Father, and I'll see what he says. _Vincent thought decidedly. _Yes, I'll do that. There is no need to worry anyone unnecessarily._

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"How are you going to be a father is you continue to act so irresponsibly?" Father thundered, searching through his medical supplies to find something to clean Vincent's gash.

"Father, I-"Vincent tried.

"Don't 'Father' me!" Father nearly exploded. "You have a responsibility now, to Catherine, to the baby, to this whole community! And yet you continue to refuse my words of advice, going directly against what I say!"

Vincent clenched his teeth as Father applied to disinfectant, which burned and stung his forehead where the gash was. "Father," he began through clenched teeth. "I also have a responsibility towards myself. When I say I must do something, it _is_ doing something responsible. I'm-"

"you let me worry about you!" Father said, still very angry. He began wrapping Vincent's head in a bandage. "It seems all I do of late is bandaging you up."

"That is true – I have been rather clumsy." He gently reached out his hand and stopped Father, making Father look into his eyes so he could convey the message as well as he could. "I have been very _clumsy_."

Father narrowed his eyes, trying to understand what Vincent was saying. "Vincent, I'm not here to play guessing games; what on earth do you-"

"I have not been myself, Father." Vincent tried to explain. "Catherine had shut off our bond this morning and yet, I still continue to feel all of the emotions, without her putting them there. I feel angry, aggressive, frustrated. There are times where I'd like nothing more than to…" his voice trailed, his eyes looking down at the floor. "Father, I think that, perhaps it would be best for everyone, if I…"

"If you what, Vincent?" Father asked, his voice softening.

"If I lock myself up somewhere for a short time." Vincent finished. "Not for long, only for a short time, in case. I-I don't like the idea of me running freely when I'm not in my right mind. It… it frightens me of what I could do to you, Catherine, the whole community, and the baby." He said, looking into Father's eyes at those last words.

"Absolutely not." Father said firmly, continuing to wrap the bandage around Vincent's head. "I will not have you caged or chained like an animal – if anything; it will only make the mad- the sickness worse."

Vincent bit his lip, knowing that everyone called his madness 'the sickness' in order to try not to hurt Vincent's feelings. He shook his head, which Father then, of course, had to pause in his bandage wrapping.

"But what else can we do?" Vincent asked. "We cannot guarantee that anything is wrong, and yet-"

"I will alert Kanin, Mary, William, Mouse and a selection of others." Father said firmly. "We won't tell many people; we don't want there to be any sort of panic. We'll just ask them to try keeping an eye on you."

"Two eyes would be better." Vincent quipped, hoping to liven up the situation, which was a mistake, for that reminded Father to be angry.

"Still, any sickness you may or may not have is not an excuse for you running off like you did today." Father said. "You have been working too hard! When a person breaks their foot, they generally need to take it easy for a few days – a few weeks – not go fix water leaks and seal entrances, both of which could have waited, or someone else could have done."

Vincent shook his head. "I needed an excuse to be alone, Father – I needed to think."

"Well, next time you need to be alone, by all means, do it in your chamber!" Father exclaimed, checking over Vincent's ribs. "And I would encourage a bit more thinking, by asking yourself-"

"By asking myself 'in light of my past experiences, current circumstances, and future hopes and dreams, what is the wise thing for me to do'." Vincent quoted the phrase he had heard so many times in his life. "I did ask myself that, Father."

"And?" Father prodded, prodding by asking the question and feeling around Vincent's ribs. "Breath deep for me, son."

Vincent took a deep breath and let it out before he continued talking. "My past experiences are that I _have_ had the sickness before, and both times before I had it, I acted similar to the way I have been lately. And my current circumstances are that I've been strongly having 'the symptoms' of the sickness, and my future hopes and dreams," he paused, trying to gather his thoughts. "I have many, but the ones I was thinking of is making sure you, Catherine, the baby, and the rest of my family – the entire community, stays in perfect health and happiness, and any pain they do have has nothing to do with me in the slightest."

"Someone said once 'that loving someone means having to say you're sorry every fifteen minutes'." Father said. "I am trying to remember who said it – was it a famous philosopher?"

"Not by a long shot." Vincent couldn't help but laugh, which made his ribs hurt worse. "But go on."

"My point is, everyone Below loves you Vincent, and they know you love them." Father said gently but firmly. "Do not feel ashamed over any problems such as the sickness, Vincent. We will gladly help you in any way we can, you know that? Be sure of it."

Vincent again shook his head. "The more I see, the less I know for sure."

"And what do you mean by that?"

"I mean that I do not doubt anyone's love for me, nor mine for them. I just wish life would be simpler, more predictable. One minute I am sure of something, but the further I look into it, the less I'm sure. It's… complicated."

Father nodded. "It must be. Okay, your good to go." He paused. "I ought to punish you by not giving you pain pills, but here you go anyway." He dropped three pills into Vincent's palm. "Take these, and remember to try to stay still. No heavy labor or bending down. No going Above and certainly no climbing up Catherine's trellis."

He was about to say something about Meg and Catherine's being Below, but he shut his mouth just in time. He forgot; it was meant to be kept a secret from Vincent.

"Well, um, don't you have a French lesson to go teach?" he asked Vincent.

Vincent nodded. "The children – are they eating lunch?"

Father nodded. "But they should be through any minute now. Um, Vincent, before the lesson…"

"Yes Father?"

"You may want to dry off a bit." Father said, noting Vincent's damp, though no longer dripping, state. "And comb your hair out – it has a lot of loose dirt and gravel in it."

"Thank you Father, but right now I'm hardly concerned with my appearance." Vincent said with a sigh, walking out of Father's chamber. "At least, no more than usual." He added before he left.

Father sighed, very, very proud of his son. He was unspeakably proud of his son's strength, valor, intellect, kindheartedness, chivalry, and more, and was proud of the fine man he had grown into. He also felt sorry for him though, knowing that Vincent had been giving himself no self-respect lately, and that was something he needed to have when he met Meg – and being dry and clean during the meeting certainly wouldn't hurt.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: OK, it seems to be of popular opinion that my chapters are too long. Let me know in your review if you think my chapters are too long or too short – thanks. Also, bear with me for this chapter. It may seem a bit OOC, but don't worry about it; its not.**

"But that's all taken care of now," Catherine assured Meg. "Everything is taken care of. Kanin's 'run in' with the law is a thing of the past.

Kanin and Olivia nodded. "Thankfully." Olivia said. "I don't know what I would have done if he had gone to prison."

Meg shook his head. "I can see it from both points of views; you are seeing it as a complete accident that you accidentally hit a car, and I see that. But the boy's mother was seeing it as murder – I know how I would feel if anything happened to my Bailee or Cameryn."

Suddenly they heard Luke crying out for his parents. "We'd better go." Olivia excused them. The couple left.

"So now have I finally met everyone?" Meg asked as her and Catherine headed back towards the main hallway. It was now several hours since they had first come Below, about 1:00PM.

Catherine nodded. "With the exception of Narcissa and you may never meet here. She lives so far down Below, I can't even begin to describe."

"And I haven't met Vincent." Meg reminded her. "I thought you'd be eager to introduce me to him!"

"I just don't feel ready to yet." Catherine admitted.

"Why not?" Meg asked. "Everyone here starts to act strange every time I mention him – why?"

Catherine turned to her. "Vincent is special to all of us, and we don't want him to be hurt by any- anything that everyone does when they meet him."

Meg shook her head. "I don't understand."

Catherine sighed. She knew that it was now or never. "I guess I've put it off long enough; come on – I think he should be giving the children their French lesson right about now."

She quickly made her way to his chamber, Meg quickly on her heels. Catherine had to introduce the two before she changed her mind.

Finally, they were close enough to hear Vincent's voice. "what are they saying?" Meg whispered to Catherine once the children started joining in.

"they are counting." Catherine whispered back. They were close enough to the chamber to hear the going-ons inside, but could not yet see inside the chamber. "listen to them."

All of the children were counting as high as they could in French, with Vincent leading them. "_Un, deux, trios, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf, dix, onze, douze, treize, quatorze, quinze, seize, dix-sept, dix-huit, dix-neuf, vingt._"

"Wow," Meg breathed. "Some of them are so young – I can tell by their voices, yet they can already count in French?"

"Amazing, isn't it?" Catherine agreed. "And to think that I'm still trying to figure out how to say '_bonjour_' properly!"

"What number did we just count to?" they heard Vincent quizzing the children. "Sven?"

"Twenty." They heard a young boy say.

"Yes." Vincent verified. "So the next number would be… what? Susan?"

"I suppose twenty-one," Susan said. "So that would be twenty-one."

"Not exactly." Vincent said. "Does anyone remember what we discussed about this yesterday? That in French, it would be said 'twenty and one', thirty and one', 'forty and one', and so on. Perchik, you have a question?"

"But what about twenty-two, and twenty-three, and the rest of the numbers?" Perchik wanted to know.

"That is said without the 'and'; 'twenty-two' and 'twenty-three' – understand?" Vincent attempted to explain.

"Yes Vincent." The children said in unison.

Catherine took a deep breath. Okay, so maybe she was about to break up the French lesson, but she needed to have Vincent and Meg meet before she lost her courage. Slowly, she stopped fighting their bond and let her feelings flow freely.

"How did you learn French, Vincent?" one of the children spoke up.

"By reading." Vincent replied.

"You read French before you knew it?" Perchik asked, misunderstanding Vincent's answer, which caused him to chuckle.

"No; I learned it by studying it." Vincent said. "When I was a child, I could not go Above and play like you children can, so I stayed home and…" his voice trailed.

"What's the matter, Vincent?" Maria's sweet voice spoke up.

Meg looked at Catherine, questioning. "What's the matter?"

"Vincent knows we're here." Catherine replied.

"How?" Meg looked confused. "We can't see them and they can't see us. We're whispering and-"

"Ssh – just listen." Catherine said, turning her attention back to the group inside Vincent's chamber.

"Nothing is the matter, Maria." Vincent assured Maria, and the other children. "Children, I think we're through with our lesson for today – as a matter of fact, all of our lessons for the day."

"Yes!" Fifteen-year-old Lincoln cheered. "Above the kids don't have to do school on Saturdays and I say, neither should we!"

"I second that vote!" Sixteen-year-old Thomas quipped.

"They are just teasing." Catherine whispered to Meg. "They are good kids, and eager to learn."

"Very well." Vincent said. You could hear him shutting a book. "Today you have your wish. Why don't you children run home and practice your numbers in French? And then perhaps tomorrow or Monday we can count to one hundred, and get the numbers finished, so we can begin working on conversation?"

That seemed to appeal to the children as they began to file out of the chamber. Catherine and Meg quickly hid out of sight, so the children could not see them. But once the children disappeared, Vincent called out tentatively. "Catherine?"

"I'm here, Vincent." Was Catherine's reply. "We both are."

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

_What is Catherine feeling? _Vincent wondered as he led the children through their numbers in French. _It feels as if I want to know, but I don't want to know._

Once the children got to _vingt_, he stopped them automatically, having done this same routine with many children over the past ten plus years.

"What number did we just count to?" Vincent quizzed them. "Sven?" he called on a young boy who had recently come to live Below.

"Twenty." Sven answered, correctly.

"Yes." Vincent said, smiling warmly at the boy. The boy hadn't seemed eager to learn _anything_ when he first came four months ago, but now, here he was, paying attention in a French class. "So the next number would be… what? Susan?" he asked a girl next.

"I suppose twenty-one," Susan said. "So that would be twenty-one."

"Not exactly." Vincent said. He always had a devil of a time explaining this concept to the children. "Does anyone remember what we discussed about this yesterday? That in French, it would be said 'twenty and one', thirty and one', 'forty and one', and so on." Young Perchik raised his hand. "Perchik, you have a question?"

"But what about twenty-two, and twenty-three, and the rest of the numbers?" Perchik asked.

"That is said without the 'and'; 'twenty-two' and 'twenty-three'." Vincent explained. "They say it how we do, only in French – understand"

"Yes Vincent." The children said in unison.

"_Oui_ Vincent." Penelope said in her best French, making the rest of the children laugh.

_In six or seven years, I wonder if our child will be learning French, _Vincent wondered. _Suppose if the baby is a boy and dating a French girl like Catherine said - he had better be fluent!_

He felt a pang of sadness. Sure, he still had this odd sense with the baby, being able to feel its presence and all, but even that bond seemed connected with Catherine's, for when she blocked the bond, he couldn't feel the baby either.

"How did you learn French, Vincent?" Sven wanted to know.

"By reading." Vincent replied, thinking of all the long hours he spent studying books, trying to keep from crying over the fun he knew he was missing when the other children played Above. Sometimes it worked; nevertheless, tear stains still marked the pages of half of his library.

"You read French before you knew it?" Perchik asked, not understanding.

"No; I learned it by studying it." Vincent chuckled. "When I was a child, I could not go Above and play like you children can, so I stayed home and…" _What? _He realized that Catherine was reopening their bond – and she was standing in the hall!

"What's the matter, Vincent?" Maria asked, concerned.

"Nothing is the matter, Maria." Vincent assured Maria, his heart pounding, knowing that Meg was certainly with Catherine. "Children, I think we're through with our lesson for today – as a matter of fact, all of our lessons for the day."

"Yes!" Fifteen-year-old Lincoln cheered. "Above the kids don't have to do school on Saturdays and I say, neither should we!"

"I second that vote!" Sixteen-year-old Thomas quipped.

"Very well." Vincent said, shutting an old, tear-marked French book. "Today you have your wish. Why don't you children run home and practice your numbers in French? And then perhaps tomorrow or Monday we can count to one hundred, and get the numbers finished, so we can begin working on conversation?"

That seemed to appeal to the children, so they began to file out of the chamber.

_Oh, Catherine, why did you have to close off our bond and surprise me like this?_ He asked silently, the dread getting worse and worse as each moment passed. Finally, all of the children were out of his chamber, and all he could here was silence.

_Maybe I'm just imaging I'm sensing her. _Vincent thought in vain. "Catherine?" he called out, hesitantly.

"I'm here, Vincent." He heard Catherine's voice. "We both are."

Vincent gulped, his heart pounding ninety miles per hour, or at least it felt like that. "Catherine, do not come any closer!" he warned. He quickly donned his cloak and snuffed out all the candles in his chamber, making it nearly pitch black, save the light streaming in from the hall outside.

"Vincent," Catherine pleaded. "Don't hide!"

Meg turned to Catherine, confused, fear obviously in her voice. "What's the matter?"

Catherine felt sympathy for her cousin. She was hoping on introducing her cousin to Vincent differently, to make her less fearful instead of more. And for some strange reason, Vincent seemed frightened too.

"Vincent, we're coming in." she said softly.

"Catherine, please no." Vincent's protested. "Please, let me be."

Catherine grabbed Meg's hand, leading her into Vincent's chamber. "You know I cannot do that, Vincent."

The chamber was nearly black, and Catherine could hardly see her hand in front of her face. Luckily, she knew how his chamber was laid out, so she managed to have her and Meg not run into any furniture.

"Vincent?" Catherine said uncertainly, looking around the dark chamber, knowing he had to be hiding somewhere. Just where was the problem.

Meg tried not to whimper in fear. She didn't know why she was afraid, but she felt like she had already taken in a lot today – why was Vincent acting so strange?

"Catherine, please – I beg you." Vincent told her. "Please go."

"Vincent, what's wrong?" Catherine asked, blinking back frightened and a few angry tears.

"I said go." Vincent repeated, firmly.

"I can't." she said. "I-I can't."

Vincent's ear perked up. He could here Father's footsteps coming down the hall, even though Father was yet a long ways away. "Please, Catherine – Father is coming."

"Don't you think he may be a tad bit ashamed to see you playing hide-and-go-seek at your age?" Catherine asked, using a tactic on Vincent she had never tried before; the guilt trip.

Her comment stung Vincent's ears, and he knew that she knew it. "Catherine, do _not_ treat me like a child!" he growled.

"I'm treating you like the age that you are acting." She said firmly. "Come on, Meg – let's go."

They were about to exit Vincent's chamber when Father stepped right in front of them, about to enter Vincent's chamber.

"Oh, I am sorry, Catherine, Meg." Father apologized, clearing his throat apologetically while leaning on his cane for support. "I just came to sit in on the lesson – why is his chamber darkened?" Father asked, looking past Meg and Catherine. "Where is he? And Meg," he clasped the young woman's hands. "You're as white as a sheet." Her hands felt clammy and sweaty. "Vincent, where is Vincent?" Father asked Catherine, urgently.

"Playing childish games in his chamber." Catherine said, purposely loud enough for Vincent to hear. She was so _irritated_ at him! "Come on, Meg – let's go home." And with that, she stormed off, taking a frightened Meg with her.

Father felt a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach. What had just happened? And whatever had just happened, he had a feeling that Vincent was to blame.

He peered into the darkness of Vincent's chamber. "Vincent?" he called out.

After a moment's pause, he heard Vincent reply. "Yes, Father?"

"Vincent, what just happened?" Father asked, concernedly. "Come into the light so I can see you."

"No, Father." Vincent answered, stating that he would _not_ come into the light.

"'No'?" Father questioned. "Now listen here, you will _not_, I repeat will _not_ tell your father 'no'! Do you understand?"

"There seems to be a popular belief that I am still a child." Vincent said. "Catherine said it, you treat me like one."

Father bit his tongue, not wanting to say the unfair and certainly permanently damaging comment that was about to come out of his mouth. Instead, he said, "Why did Catherine say that – is it because you are here hiding in your chamber?"

When Vincent didn't answer, Father knew that was the correct reason. "You know," Father said, lighting a candle off of one in the hall. "I remember a little boy once who had gotten blamed falsely. As a result, he had gotten into a fight and before he knew it, he had struck another boy."

Father carefully took one step into Vincent's chamber, the candle not providing much light. "The little boy was so ashamed over what he had done; he had hid out in his chamber for a week – not coming out under any circumstances, not even to eat, use the toilet, _any_ circumstances. He refused to talk to anyone; even though that was something that he certainly needed to do. Finally, I coaxed him into speaking with me and told him that sometimes people have a right to be ashamed, and sometimes they don't. For example, if one is setting the table and breaks a glass, they needn't be ashamed, since it wasn't their fault – they didn't purposely drop the glass. But when you purposely throw the glass across the room, there is a cause for being ashamed."

Father took a deep breath before continuing. "I said that and this little boy, who by the way, smelled and looked awful after not taking care of himself for a week, the little boy crawled into my lap, gave me a kiss and said he was sorry. We talked a bit more, both of us shedding a few tears, and then I convinced him to show his face again outside his chamber. We went and ate supper together, got him bathed, and read him a bedtime story, and while I read, he fell asleep in my arms."

Father paused for a moment before continuing. "Since then, that little boy has left our world. Where he went, I am not sure. There are parts about that little boy I do not miss and are glad are gone- the way he dealt out his anger, the way he consistently pestered me with questions. But most of him, I miss- I miss his smile, his laughter, his kindness, his good-will, and I certainly miss the confidence he had in himself, and his high self-respect and self-esteem. Vincent?" he asked, checking to make sure his son was listening.

"Yes, Father?" Vincent asked flatly.

"Do you remember that little boy?" Father asked Vincent gently. "Do you know where he's gone? Do you think you'll be able to bring him back?"

"That was a long time ago, Father." Was Vincent's reply.

"Not so long ago, as I remember it." Father ventured deeper into Vincent's chamber, not bothering to light the other candles for more light. "Sometimes, I get this feeling that the little boy still lives here with us. Sometimes I feel him while I'm working in my chamber, when it is silent all around me. Sometimes I feel him when I'm lonely – that little boy hated for anyone to be lonely, and would talk your ear off to ensure you felt that you had good company."

"I'm afraid that little boy is not coming back, Father." Vincent said.

"Oh, but I think he may be still here." Father said, following the sound of Vincent's voice. "Seldom times I hear him laughing, but I do hear it. Other times I hear him playing with children, though not too often. And every night, when I stick my head in his chamber to check on him, to make sure he's all right, I see the little boy in his bed, sleeping peacefully." Father sighed. "A person needs to let their guard down sometimes, Vincent, and be themselves. Not worry about what other people might do or think, but just be themselves – the way a child is." He spied Vincent sitting down on the ground in a dark corner of his chamber, covered with his cloak, and began coming near him. "I often see the face the little boy has, yes, very often. But the only times I see the little boy is when the face is asleep – do you know why?" Father seated himself beside Vincent with great effort.

Vincent shook his head, staring down at the floor like he had been the entire conversation.

"Because when one is asleep, they're completely open, honest and most importantly, themselves. Their guard has been let down." Father explained. "I do not think I have to tell you who that little boy is, do I, Vincent?"

Vincent shook his head. "It is me. But Father…"

"Yes." Father said.

"I am no longer a child." Vincent said. "I am not quite certain why you are bringing this conversation up _now_."

"I am bringing it up for several reasons." Father said. "First of all, to remind you of a time where you could be open before me, that you could tell me anything. Remind you of a time where I would keep even your darkest secrets."

"I have no secrets from you, Father." Vincent told his father truthfully, though still staring down at the floor.

"And to remind you of the concept of breaking the glass." Father continued as if Vincent had not spoken. "That if the glass slips out of your hand, or breaks in another way that is not your fault, there is no need to be ashamed, while if you broke it on purpose, one should be ashamed, and punished."

"If you are talking about my appearance, my nature, I do not follow." Was Vincent's reply, while shaking his head to show he didn't understand.

"Are you responsible for your appearance or nature?" Father asked his son patiently.

Vincent looked his Father in the eyes for a moment, and then dropped his eyes once again. "We do not know, Father."

Father sighed. "Vincent, there is no need to be ashamed of who you are, what you are. No need for shame, embarrassment, or anything of the like. You did not make yourself the way you are."

"So I am like the glass breaking accidentally?" Vincent tried to grasp his father's meaning.

"Yes, almost." Father said. "While I believe no one is 'an accident', you certainly aren't responsible for it. Vincent, it is not like you to be acting in such a way – tell me - is there something wrong?"

Vincent was silent for a few moments before he spoke. "Father…" he said slowly.

"Yes?"

"When we spoke of the sickness returning earlier," Vincent said. "Do you remember?"

At Father's nod, Vincent continued. "The more I think on it, the more I think that it is returning. In a different form, perhaps, but something is not right. I have been consistently feeling anger, shame, frustration, and other feelings, feelings that I never felt half as much before."

"It could be first-time father jitters." Father reminded Vincent. "But aside from wait to see what happens, what else can we do?"

Vincent shook his head. "It reminds me of the situation with Catherine being with child; there seems to be no 'best' thing to do. Many options perhaps, but none of them good."

"I vote we all keep an extra eye out." Father voted.

"Which is basically just waiting." Vincent pointed out.

"Well, what do you vote we do – chain you up?" Father asked for his son's plan.

Vincent shook his head ferociously. "No. As concerned as I am about this situation, and as ideal as that may be-"

"I understand, Vincent." Father interrupted quietly. "It was just an example. Vincent… I think the best way to let everyone know is to…"

Vincent nodded, slightly humiliated. "Go on and tell Pascal, Father. It is for everyone's good." _How embarrassing, _Vincent thought. _Go sound it out on the pipes – let the entire community know that Vincent is going crazy, that Vincent may be sick!_ Yet he knew that that was the best thing to do. "Father, please, go sound it out on the pipes, before I think better of it."

Father hesitated. "I do not think we're done talking, Vincent. The more we've talked about it, the more we've decided that 'in light of our future hopes and dreams' that Meg should meet you. And she's here, Vincent. Now is the time."

Vincent shook his head. "Now I've frightened her."

Father cleared his throat. "Er, Vincent? You know that you _will_ frighten her no matter what, you know that?"

Vincent sighed, thudding his head back against the wall, the pain clearly seen in his face. "Yes, I do."

Father looked more concerned than he usually did. "What is it, Vincent?"

"Oh, Father." Vincent said. "I understand what you are saying, that I should not be ashamed, and while my heart tells me that you are right…" his voice trailed as he searched for words. " I am still ashamed. Why, Father? I have never felt quite this way before. Not until only moments ago, when I first felt Catherine and her cousin outside my chamber."

"It could be for a number of reasons." Father pondered. "Like we discussed, you are concerned for the baby's genetics, welfare and such, how you will manage as a father, how you and Catherine will manage as parents. Now you are wondering about your history more than ever, wondering how you came into existence the way you did, and your future, what will become of you, our world? And now is the time where you are questioning your love for Catherine, and hers for you – it always happens when the woman first becomes pregnant. And, like we also discussed, you… haven't been quite yourself lately. It may be the sickness, or maybe some other form of-"

"Madness." Vincent finished. "Father, I feel as if it is not responsible to just wait to see what will happen. Even in my right mind, I am a danger to everyone – you and I both know this. And when I'm not, the results could be… unthinkable."

"So what do you think we should do?" Father asked, greatly respecting his son's opinion.

Vincent took a deep breath. "During the sickness, I normally retreat off on my own, don't I?"

Father nodded. "Yes. And while I do worry about you much when you are off by yourself, especially during those times, I cannot help but think that is for the best."

"Yes." Vincent said, concentrating on his next words. "Well, I think, that I should go now."

"What?" Father was taken aback.

"I think that I should go now." Vincent repeated.

"Now?" Father questioned. "But Vincent-"

"I can take care of myself, Father." Vincent said. "And perhaps some time alone will help me. It won't be for long – only for a week or so."

"How will time alone help you?" Father demanded.

"Father, I have been thinking hard about this." Vincent said to his father. "During the sickness, I retreat off on my own, and soon come back, the sickness gone, remembering nothing of the time I spent in the sickness. Perhaps some time alone is what I need, Father."

"And what if its not?" Father wanted to know. "What if it does more harm than good?"

"I don't think it will." Vincent said. "Be honest with yourself, Father; it does seem like it is worth a try."

Father nodded slowly. "I will think on it. In the meantime," he struggled to get to his feet, which was practically hopeless. Vincent quickly jumped to Father's aid and offered out a fur-covered, claw-tipped hand, helping Father stand up.

Father cleared his throat. "Er, thank you, Vincent. Now as I was saying, I will take your suggestion to heart, and think on it. And while I do that," he looked over to his son, barely seeing him because of the dim light; them only have a sole candle. "And while I do that, you must stay in your chamber. Catherine and Meg have probably gone back Above, but-"

Vincent shook his head. "Catherine is Below, I can feel it."

Father nodded. "Well, stay in your chamber then. I'll go tell Pascal to send word on the pipes of your… odd behavior." He was almost out of the dark chamber before he turned. "Vincent, would you, er, like me to send Catherine and Meg back in?"

Vincent nodded. "Catherine. Perhaps Meg can come after I speak with Catherine."

"Just remember," Father warned. "She will be frightened, but don't let it bother you. The rest of us have a love for you that is… to large to even to begin to describe."

Vincent nodded. "And I return that love."

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"What did I do to make him so mad at me?" Meg sobbed into Catherine's shoulder.

"Nothing." Catherine said with a sigh. "Meg, look, don't blame Vincent; blame me. I went about introducing the two of you the wrong way."

"Why was his room so dark?" Meg demanded. "And what was that sound we heard – it sounded like an animal growling!"

Catherine sighed. She and Meg were sitting at a table Below. Catherine had managed to get less angry at Vincent on the walk back, after rumor started to spread on the pipes about Vincent's possible sickness. But she couldn't even begin to explain to Meg anything about the sickness. She had t explain Vincent first.

Catherine sighed. "Vincent obviously blew out all of his candles, which is why it was so dark."

"Why?" Meg demanded. "Why did he blow out his candles?"

_Because not only does he have some leonine facial features, but he's got the eyes and ears of a cat, being able to see and hear far better than we can possibly imagine, _Catherine wished to tell her, or even the truth, that Vincent didn't want to be seen. But she just didn't feel right about doing that. Instead, she went about it a different way.

"Meg, do you believe in 'love at first sight'?" she asked her cousin.

Meg looked at her like she was crazy. "What does that have to do with the experience we just had, the way we were treated?"

"Just answer the question." Catherine said patiently. "Do you believe in 'love at first sight'?"

Meg hesitated. "Sometimes, yes – why?"

"Do you believe that love is destined, fate?" Catherine tried next.

Meg nodded. "Yes, I do."

"Do you believe you can love a person having never seen their face?" Catherine asked.

Meg's eyes widened. "You've never seen Vincent's face?"

"No, no; I've seen him countless times." Catherine assured her cousin. "But do you think you could love a person without ever seeing their face, that is, regardless of their appearance?"

Meg nodded. "Of course. You've never seen Jesus, have you, but you still love him."

Catherine nodded. "Exactly. And do you think that love can be somewhat magical?"

"I guess." Meg said with a shrug. "What are you getting at, Cathy? What's wrong?"

"Well," Catherine said with a deep breath. "Vincent and I… that is, we share this… our ma-"

"Spit it out!" Meg demanded.

"Vincent and I have a… connection." Catherine attempted to explain. "A bond."

Meg looked confused. "Say what?"

"Vincent knows me." Catherine said. "He knows what I'm feeling, and even where I am at all times. It's like this… psychic, supernatural thing that binds us together."

Meg shook her head. "I don't follow."

"Telepathy." Catherine said. "It's like telepathy, only instead of reading minds, its _emotions_. Vincent has apparently always been sensitive to other people emotions, but mine, he can read, like a book. Even when I'm 3,000 miles away, he can know what I feel, when I feel it, and he knows where I am at all times. Occasionally I can feel his feelings, but not half as strongly or as often. It's… complicated."

Meg looked alarmed. "Catherine?" she started backing away.

"It's all true." Catherine attempted to assure her cousin. "I know it sounds strange, and sometimes I still can't believe it, but it's true!"

"It is." A voice interrupted them. Both Catherine and Meg turned to see Father standing in the doorway, leaning against his cane. "It is true, Meg. I cannot make sense of it, but I know it is real. Vincent and Catherine cannot make sense of it, but it is not a figment in their imaginations – their bond is real, I do not doubt that for a moment."

"Vincent!" Catherine asked, running towards Father. "I heard the message o er the pipes, and I think it said something to do with the sickness. Is that what it said? Is Vincent all right?"

"You are getting better at the pipes – I am impressed." Father said. He took a deep breath. "Yes Catherine, Vincent and I asked Pascal to put the word out on the pipes, that the sickness may or may not occur soon, and to ask everyone to keep an extra eye on him, just in case."

"Oh dear God." Catherine collapsed onto a chair, her hand over her heart.

"What is it?" Meg asked, looking from Catherine to Father, from Father to Catherine, and then back to Father. "What's the sickness? What's wrong?"

Father took a deep breath. "My son has some sort of… mental illness that occurs very seldom, only two other times in his life. And for the past few weeks he has not been acting himself, and he has brought it to my attention that it may be caused by the sickness occurring again."

"Well, isn't their medication for it?" Meg asked, knowing that bipolar and other diseases ran in her family, and that there was usually medication for it.

Father shook his head. "I'm afraid there is none. I'm not experienced in new-fangled medicine, but Dr. Peter has looked into it and-"

"_Our _Dr. Peter?" Meg looked genuinely surprised as she looked from Father to Catherine. At Catherine's nod, all Meg could say is "oh my goodness".

"It's a small world." Catherine said with a smile, trying to calm down from her shock. "Father, Vincent – where is he now?"

"In his chamber." Father directed. "He is all right, very… self-conscious, you might say." He glanced over at Meg and then looked back at Catherine. "Now may not be the best time for a meeting. However though, he did say he wanted to see you."

Meg grabbed Catherine's arm. "You cannot go see him alone!"

"I have to." Catherine replied, gently removing Meg's arm. "If I don't go and the sickness does occur…" she decided not to even voice how much she would regret not going to see him. " Meg, why don't you stay here, or go to the nursery to visit with Mary while I go see Vincent?"

"I'll stay here and we'll chat." Father said, easing himself onto a table. "Go on, Catherine dear."

Catherine nodded and began racing for Vincent's chamber, wanting to see him as soon as she could.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

Vincent paced back and forth in his newly-lit chamber. What was he to tell Catherine, that he was going crazy? That he was too much of a coward to meet her cousin?

Catherine bounded into his chamber unexpected, without knocking. "Vincent!" she said, giving him a huge hug, causing him to stop pacing. "Vincent! I was so worried about you! I heard the message on the pipes, and Father came and told us that it was true and-"

Vincent placed his finger over Catherine's lips. "Why did you close off our bond?"

Catherine couldn't meet Vincent in the eyes. "I don't know. I just felt, that well, you were so nervous as it was, and that maybe us showing up unexpectedly would help ease your nervousness, cause you to act more like yourself."

Vincent shook his head. "It drove me mad, Catherine!" he said, clasping her shoulders.

"No pun intended, I hope." Catherine couldn't help but lightly laugh. "Oh, Vincent." She leaned against him, resting her head on his chest.

Vincent winced, so she suddenly pulled away. "What's the matter –did I hurt you?" she asked concerned.

Vincent shook his head. "No, no. I just managed to bruise some ribs – Father thinks I might have broken some. I will be fine if I take it easy." He patted her head back on his chest, only her now laying on it much more lightly.

_How did he manage to break his ribs?_ Catherine wondered. _Or do I not want to know? _"I'm so sorry." Catherine said. I'm just so confused. It seems I've done a lot of crazy things lately. I just-"

"It's all right." Vincent assured her. "But Catherine, there is something we need to discuss."

Catherine pulled away from him suddenly. "There sure is – you and your clothes are all wet, and you've got a bunch of dirt and rocks in your hair!"

Vincent sighed, suddenly finding himself wishing he had taken Father's earlier advice of cleaning up to heart. "It is a long story, Catherine."

"And that bandage over your head." She eyed the bandage covering his gash on his forehead. "And your finger," she said, noting the finger with quick of his claw that had been cut. Vincent had hoped his claw would grow right back overnight, like it normally did, but it wasn't. Father thought it had something to do with the quick being cut.

Vincent again sighed. "I had a… an accident while sealing up a Tunnel entrance." Vincent explained. "I was moving this boulder-"

"By yourself?" Catherine questioned.

"Yes, and I-"

"Vincent!" Catherine said, exasperated. "You don't move things like that yourself – get some help for now on, you ox!"

"I've learned that." Vincent admitted. "I managed to break my ribs, and sustain a few other injuries in the process." He didn't want to go into great detail about the gash on his forehead, or his pulled muscles, or any of the other deep cuts or scrapes he had gotten in the boulder ordeal.

"And what of your finger?" Catherine demanded.

"Er, that was an accident as well." Vincent didn't want to explain his trying to trim his claws – that seemed a bit embarrassing.

"Father told me that you broke some bones in your foot." Catherine stated. "Vincent! You need to stay in bed for a couple days, to get healed up!"

Vincent shook his head. "No, I am fine."

"I disagree." Catherine replied. "If what you and Father think about the sickness retuning is true, then you need to go lie in bed – maybe it will help prevent it."

Vincent shook his head. "Father and I have already discussed what may help prevent it."

"What is it?" Catherine wanted to know.

"A journey." Vincent stated.

"A journey?" Catherine was clearly confused.

"Yes." Vincent tried desperately to explain, hoping Catherine would not grow overly emotional by this. "I think it would be wise for me to go off by myself for a few days. Retreat into some deeper Tunnels; give myself time alone to think. I have done that during the sickness, and I wind up getting better. Why not try it as preventative medicine?"

Catherine shook her head. "I don't like you going off alone. Maybe take Pascal or Mouse with you?"

"No." Vincent said. "That defeats the purpose. I can take care of myself, Catherine."

"I know." Catherine sighed. "But what if something happens, like what happened to Winslow? What if you need protection?"

"Catherine, I must go alone, and as soon as possible." He said firmly. "Do not worry about me - I will have your prayers, will I not?" Vincent asked her.

Catherine couldn't help but smile, giving him an extremely light hug as to not hurt his ribs. "Yes, you will. And you be careful – I don't need you coming back with a concussion or anything." She eyed him carefully. "Are you sure you don't want to wait a few days, to rest until your ribs get better?"

Vincent shook his head. "That could be weeks, and by then, if the sickness is coming, it will be there." He eyed Catherine's worried state and felt the pain in his chest every time he breathed. "Perhaps one or two days of rest before won't hurt though."

"And what of Meg?" Catherine wanted to know. "You have to meet her before you or her leaves."

Vincent nodded. "But do you really think that now is that right time? Perhaps let the news of our world sink in, and bring her back tomorrow?"

"But we cannot guarantee tomorrow." Catherine reminded Vincent. "Tomorrow may be too late."

Vincent held out his arms, reminding Catherine of his being wet, dirty and literally broken state. "Perhaps we should take our chances?"

Catherine smiled, knowing that while tomorrow certainly wasn't guaranteed, it was highly probable. "All right – tomorrow then?"

"Tomorrow." Vincent agreed.

"Before I leave, you must promise me one thing." Catherine stated before leaving.

"Anything." Vincent said – and he meant it.

"Bathe in some hot water and get into some clean clothes before going to bed." Catherine stated. "And be sure to be dry."

Vincent nodded. "I will see what I can do."

"You'd better." Catherine warned and with that, she left.

Vincent sighed contently. Catherine was amazing, purely amazing.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"I don't understand," Catherine heard Meg say to Father. "Why didn't he want to meet me? Why did he blow out the candles?"

Father sighed. "Meg, our world is very different from yours. In our world, the differences of people are either embraced or ignored. In your world-"

"We pay no attention to differences." Meg insisted. "Not race, not gender, not-"

"That's not what I am trying to say." Father said patiently. "In your world, they abortions for example. In our world, even if that was possible, no one would do it. In our world, they condemn people to death. In our world, we believe in second chances, and that two wrongs don't make a right. Understand?"

Meg nodded. "Yeah – you all seem to be very hippie and peace-loving." She joked.

Father chuckled. "Almost, yes." His tone turned serious. "Vincent was afraid that the peace would be disrupted once you met him. Normally he wouldn't have gone to such drastic measures – he would have caved in and you would have met him, but between the great deal of stress that he's been under lately, his bond with Catherine while she's pregnant, and perhaps the sickness coming back, he is not himself. You must forgive him."

Meg again nodded. "You talk of Vincent as if he's different."

"He is." Catherine spoke up before Father could say anything. "He kind, caring, gentle, loving, friendly, strong, intelligent, hard-working, and while he has so little self-control, he also has so much. He's very different."

Meg shook her head. "I don't get it – how can someone have little and much self-control?"

Father turned to Catherine. "I have not thought of it quite that way before, Catherine – please continue."

"Vincent has little self-control over his… nature, shall we say?" Catherine said, sliding into a chair next to Meg. "And when I've seen him lose it," she shuddered. "it's frightening – he's not even himself, it's like another personality. So you might say he has almost no self-control in certain circumstances. But he has so much, seeing is how he doesn't… do anything, er, romantically that he'd like to do. It's hard to explain unless you know him." She added the last part to try and ease Meg's confused look.

"What happened in his chamber?" Father asked Catherine. "Did you talk to him?"

Catherine nodded. "He seemed a bit upset, but was calm enough to talk about it. He seems convinced that the sickness is coming back, Father."

"And it may be." Father said. "He has been acting rather out of sorts lately, and even if the sickness is not returning, I think a journey would do him some good. What with the baby coming, he feels he cannot live up to what you and the baby need from him as a person, causing him a lot of shame, anger and frustration. Perhaps a week or so alone with his thoughts would do him some good."

Meg nodded as if she understood. "Pre-father jitters?"

Father nodded. "Yes, there is a bit of that, but also much more, Meg that perhaps soon you will understand." He looked over at Catherine. "How is he – is he ready for the meeting?"

Catherine shook her head. "We decided to wait until tomorrow – give us all a bit of time to calm down – and for him to get cleaned up." She added the last part with a chuckle.

"What's so funny?" Father inquired.

"Nothing." Catherine said quickly. "Well, even though it's only two o'clock, I say we'd better call it a day – Meg has taken in a lot today, and I'm kind of exhausted. We'd better go back Above."

Father nodded. "I'll escort you back to your apartment," he said with a grunt, struggling to stand up.

"Oh, don't bother." Catherine said. "We know the way. We'll be back tomorrow morning to see Vincent."

"That is fine." Father agreed. "I have told him not to pay you any visits until he heals. We don't want any accidents."

Catherine nodded. "Seems like he's been having a lot lately."

"Working out his anger and frustration aggressively." Father said. "I failed to teach him as a child to not take it out on himself, I suppose."

"He'll be okay." Catherine said. "'Bye."

"Goodbye." Meg said to Father. "It was good meeting you."

"It was good meeting you as well." Father returned.

Meg and Catherine turned and started back for her apartment. Catherine chuckled again when she thought of Vincent.

"What's so funny?" Meg asked. "I hardly can see what's funny about this whole situation – I cannot believe you didn't tell me about this place years ago!"

"I couldn't." Catherine explained. "You aren't supposed to tell anyone without a darn good reason, and I had to wait until I had one!"

"So what's so funny?" Meg pressed.

"Well, I could hardly share this with Father, and since you don't know Vincent, you'll hardly get the full effect, but…" Catherine paused for effect. "But when he's all dirty, and wet, and all wrapped up in bandages, gosh, is he even more good looking than I ever thought possible or what?" she giggled to herself again.

Meg couldn't help but laugh along. "I suppose that isn't something you'd want to share with his Dad, would it?"

Catherine sighed. "Oh, I'm sorry about how today went. I messed everything up!"

"How?" Meg asked. "You couldn't have prepared me for anything."

"That's not it." Catherine sighed. "Things just didn't turn out the way we planned. Right now, in my plan, you, Vincent and I would be all talking, like you and he had known each other forever. We weren't supposed to leave Below for hours!"

"Well, there's always tomorrow." Meg said.

Catherine shook her head. "Vincent and I can't live with the whole 'tomorrow' attitude – we can't count on it."

"What do you mean?" Meg asked, puzzled. "That's the whole point; you _can_ count on tomorrow? Remember the song? 'The sun will come out tomorrow, bet your bottom dollar that tomorrow, there'll be sun' – isn't that true?"

Catherine shrugged. "It's true, more or less. Yes, tomorrow _is_ always a day away, and it is more than just highly probable that the sun _will_ come out tomorrow – it's almost a guarantee. But the problem is, is that we can't count on tomorrow _coming_. I may die tonight – Below could be discovered tonight – we're just not _guaranteed_."

"So what if Below was discovered?" Meg asked as they wove their way underneath the city. "What would happen to everyone there?"

"Jail is certain for some of them." Catherine said. "Some would go live in the streets, the kids would probably all go to foster homes, and…" she couldn't bear to think beyond that.

"What of Vincent?" Meg asked. "He could probably just stay with you, right?"

Catherine shook her head. "I wish."

"Then what would happen?" Meg sounded confused. "Why couldn't he just live with you for a short while?"

"Because Vincent is different, like we said." Catherine attempted to explain. "Above, people will not accept his differences. It's… complicated."

"It sure is." Meg agreed. "Because I have no idea what you're talking about. How could he be so different that people wouldn't accept him?"

"It's complicated, like I said." Catherine said with a sigh as they arrived below her basement. "Very, very complicated."

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

_August 9__th__, 1989_

_Things did not go as expected today, _Vincent wrote. _Catherine brought Meg Below as planned, but a strange form of madness kicked in, some emotional pain, and I could not bring myself to meet her. I think that perhaps some time alone might prevent the sickness from coming, as it certainly seems to be the 'cure'._

_Is it a cure or only a bandage, I wonder? We will never know, is the sad part. There is so much about me that in unpredictable – I might die from old age tomorrow, for all we know. Catherine should not have someone like that. She should have someone more predicable. Our baby should have a father that is more predictable. We do not know when I should die, how long I should live, if I will continue in sanity, or get the sickness, but it will never go away. And the baby – I cannot be responsible for another life! I can hardly take care of myself – these past few days have proved that. What was I thinking, cutting my own claws, which was in vain, by the way, since they grew back? In a matter of seventy-two hours, I managed to hurt my finger, break my foot, pull more muscles than I ever thought I had, break, or at least bruise my ribs, get a deep gash on my head, not to mention get all these other scraps and cuts? Everything I have done of late has been done out of anger, out of frustration, out of shame. Everything I have done has been irresponsible, irrational, and childish. What is wrong with me? It must be the sickness that is causing this… personality change. How much longer can it go on? Perhaps I will meet Meg tomorrow morning and leave fro my journey then. Or perhaps I'd better wait to meet her until I get back, when I'm in my right mind. No, she will have gone back home then._

_Catherine and Meg are counting on me meeting Meg tomorrow, so I will do that. _Vincent wrote straight on. _Soon afterwards, perhaps after luncheon, I will leave._

Vincent stood up and started gathering together what would be needed for the journey. There was no time to waste. He needed to get out of there as soon as possible, to avoid any tragedy that they were capable of avoiding.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"I still don't get it." Meg said, shaking her head.

It was later that evening, and Meg and Catherine had gone out to see a production of _Fiddler on the Roof_. Now they were at an ice cream parlor, eating ice cream even though it was nearly midnight, before they got back so Catherine's apartment.

"Don't get what?" Catherine asked, taking a bite of her fudge sundae.

"Why Vincent was embarrassed to meet me." Meg said.

"He's just shy." Catherine said. "He doesn't meet many new people, and combined with some other problems that he's been having…"

"Okay, I think I get it now." Meg said. "So, how'd you like the play?"

"It was magnificent." Catherine said. "The cast was pretty incredible, don't you think?"

"Especially those dancers with bottles on their heads." Meg agreed. "Amazing. And that one girl who played the middle daughter, Hodel – he voice was fantastic! What was your favorite part of the show? I liked the scene in the beginning, with the five daughters singing _Matchmaker_."

Catherine sighed. "Yeah, that part was good."

Meg looked concerned. "But?"

"But what?" Catherine asked.

"What was your favorite part?" Meg asked, taking a small sip of her banana milkshake.

"Hmmm… I liked it all, really." Catherine said. "The scene that meant the most to me was the train scene, where Hodel sang _Far From the Home I Love_."

"I saw you crying." Meg said. "Were you okay?"

Catherine nodded. "I was just thinking about daddy, and Below, and if I could only go back in time…" her voice trailed. " Well, I suppose it doesn't matter anyways."

"Uncle Charles was great," Meg said, laying her hand affectionately on top on her cousin's. "And remember, if you ever need to talk about _anything_, I'm here for you." She hesitated before giggling. "Unless you have some more major secrets up your sleeve – then I might not want to know." She laughed, referring to Catherine's secret of Below.

Catherine couldn't help but join in on the giggling. "Yes, I suppose that was a pretty big secret, wasn't it?"

"Totally." Meg said.

"Well, don't worry." Catherine assured her cousin. "I have no more big secrets… I don't think." She said.

"Oh, no." Meg said teasingly. "That 'I don't think' worries me."

"Well, it's not exactly a secret – more like something you aren't aware of." Catherine explained. "But you'll find out tomorrow morning."

Meg sighed. "It seems that Vincent's not the only one frightened about tomorrow's meeting – he's gotten me all worried. But I don't know why!"

"Remember all of those good things I told you about Vincent." Catherine told her cousin. "And remember that, er, looks can be deceiving. Just remember that, and you can't go wrong. And don't worry; he's used to a lot more stranger reactions than what you will give." She thought that over before she modified it. "He's used to a lot more understandable actions, anyways. I have confidence that you both will do fine."

"So what's this 'sickness'?" Meg asked. "And journey?"

"It's… complicated, and I'm not sure you should know right now." Catherine said. "It might, er, ruin the _effect_ Vincent has on you."

Meg shook her head. "You are sure acting rather strange today, Catherine."

"Hey, I'm pregnant, remember? I'm entitled to act strange!" Catherine exclaimed jokingly, leaving the tip on their table as they got up and left the ice cream parlor.


	16. Chapter 16

13

**Authors Note: Sorry for my cliff-hangers. Sometimes the story takes a life of its own and I just kinda have to obey it. But I promise I'll try not to make a continuous streak of the same cliff-hanger. I agree, it does get old. And also, be ye warned; writers block has been affecting me lately, so the more constructive and encouraging the reviews are the better (though if you don't wanna leave a review, you don't have to. I'd probably write this story whether people read it or not). The story is about 136,500 words long already (not all chapters posted) and is probably the longest BATB fanfic in history, so it should be finished, I expect definitely by the end of the year 2007. Now, without further ado…**

Meg leapt out of bed the next morning and quickly padded over to the living room, to make sure that the previous day hadn't been a dream. Was it true, that there was a world below New York City? It seemed so unreal, yet real. It was so hard to fathom, much less explain.

She found Catherine lying on the couch, her face rather pale. "Catherine, are you all right?" she rushed towards Catherine's side.

Catherine nodded. "Yes," she said weakly. "Just sick as a dog."

"Morning sickness?" Meg asked.

"Yes." Catherine verified. "Nothing unusual, I don't think, only for the first time, I've gotten it in the morning, instead of at other random times of the day."

Meg nodded. "Is there anything I can get you?"

"A glass of cool water would be nice." Catherine asked.

"You got it." Meg said, going to the kitchen and filling up a glass of water. "Anything else?"

"Nope." Catherine said, taking the water from Meg. She started to take small sips of it. "But our plans for this morning are still on."

"What?" Meg asked, bewildered. "But you're feeling sick!"

"That's no excuse." Catherine said. "Vincent needs to leave as soon as possible, and you need to meet him before that. Go get me a sheet of paper and a pen."

Meg nodded, jumping up to go get what Catherine asked. "Is this good?"

Catherine nodded. "Yes." She started scribbling on the paper. "Follow my instructions carefully; otherwise you'll be forever lost Below."

Meg's eyes widened. "You aren't sending me down there alone, are you?"

Catherine nodded. "You'll be fine. Here," she handed Meg written instructions and a scrawled out map. "Follow these, and you should wind up right outside Father's chamber. Get Mouse, Jamie, or Mary – heck, even Kipper, to show you to Vincent. He'll probably be in his chamber."

Meg looked uncertain. "But what if he… acts like a demon-possessed person again?"

"He won't." Catherine assured Meg. "Go, now, before I change my mind all together!"

Meg nodded. "I'll have to get dressed first."

"Something sensible, like jeans and sneakers!" Catherine called to Meg as Meg dashed into Catherine's room to quickly change.

Two minutes later, she came out of Catherine's room, dressed sensibly in jeans, a shirt and sneakers, her hair pulled back into a ponytail. "Ready to go." She stated.

"William probably has a hearty breakfast waiting." Catherine said. "So you don't have to worry about taking food with you."

"What about you?" Meg asked.

Catherine groaned. "Oh, yuck! Let's not even TALK of food right now!"

Meg smiled. "Be back in an hour?"

"Heck no!" Catherine replied. "Better make it at least three hours. Between breakfast, finding your way and meeting Vincent, its gonna take at least that long." She pushed the hair off of her eyes. "Be sure to take your time – the two of you have _lots_ to talk about."

Meg shook her head as she left Catherine's apartment and began jogging down the stairs to the basement. What did Catherine mean by _that_? Meg felt a lump grow in her stomach – God, was she nervous, but _why_?

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"Go one hundred paces to the left." Meg read off of Catherine's instructions. "What kind of instruction is that? He stride could either be longer or shorter than mine!" Nevertheless, she started counting her steps towards the left, until she got to one hundred. "Okay, now apparently I'm supposed to just walk straight until I'm in that hall again – simple enough."

Meg began walking straight forward, her mind reeling with thoughts. _What is so strange about Vincent that he doesn't want to meet me, that Catherine doesn't describe him to me? He seems like your ultimate great guy, than why are you so afraid, Meg? Straighten up!_

She didn't know why she was afraid to meet Vincent, but she knew on thing for sure; she wasn't until yesterday afternoon. Yesterday afternoon when Vincent had to go and frighten her out of her wits. If he didn't want to meet her, fine, but why did he have to go to such great lengths?

Suddenly, Meg recognized her surroundings – she was in that hallway that led to Father's chamber, to practically every chamber Below! She quickly returned to her instruction sheet, which told her to go a couple feet to the right, and Father's should be right there. She went about five feet, and sure enough, she found Father sitting at his desks, surrounded by lots of old books.

"Mr. Wells," she said, getting his attention before coming in.

"Meg!" Father said, surprised. "Please, come in. Where is Catherine?"

"She stayed home, but she wanted me to go ahead." Meg explained.

"Is she feeling better?" Father asked.

Meg wrinkled her brow. "How would I know? She shooed me out of the house almost before I could get her a glass of water!"

Father chuckled. "I'm afraid she was up all night with nausea, and emotional turmoil. I thought Vincent was handling it well before he started, er, vomiting. I guess spending so much time with her feelings and feeling sense of her nausea, his mind told him that he was sick too."

Meg shook his head. "I don't get it – how can he know what she is feeling, or how she's feeling?"

Father shook his head. "It is a gift of his, to be sensitive to others." He laughed. "Oh, the stories I could tell you of when he was a child! Anyhow, I do not know how it works, but I know that it is true. Poor Vincent, having to go through a hormonal woman's emotions!"

"It just doesn't make sense," Meg said. "Okay, now I can buy a group of people living under the city. Yes, that I can do. I can buy their quaint world, no offense. But this… what do you call it, a 'connection'?"

"A bond, yes." Father said.

"Now that's what I have trouble believing." Meg said. "It's just… to supernatural, too impossible. I mean, it might work in some Disney movie or something, but…"

"You had better start believing it, Meg." Father warned. "You have stepped into a world that is completely different than yours. You are going to find quite a few differences. Speaking of differences, I'm going to go wake Vincent. It is unlike him to sleep this late."

Meg looked at her wristwatch. "It's only 7:30."

Father nodded. "Exactly."

"But you said he had a rough night." Meg said. "Letting him sleep for another half hour is the least you can do, isn't it? Besides, isn't he a grown-man? Can't he decide when a good time to get up is? Won't he get angry if you go in there and treat him like a child? I don't mean to sound, rude, Mr. Wells but I just don't think-"

Father shook his head. "I have my doubts about him being asleep, Meg, especially if Catherine is awake right now. And I don't mind your questions – you are entitled to many of them. Vincent will want me to wake hi up if he is asleep, whether he shows it or not. He's got a long day ahead of him."

Meg nodded. "I don't want to be the cause of you waking him up, though."

Father shook his head once again. "No – I was planning on it anyway. William should have breakfast ready any time now." He pointed down the hall. "Go make yourself at home – we'll be along in a few minutes."

Meg nodded, going down the hall and into the kitchen as Father instructed. It seemed so odd, that Father treated Vincent like Vincent was still a child.

_But maybe it's not that, _Meg realized. _It's a parent loving their child. Genuine, pure love shown to another family member, something that seems consistent down here, even if the people aren't _really _related. Something our world is lacking._

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"Vincent, wake up!" Father called through the curtain that served as a door to Vincent's chamber. "Vincent, breakfast!"

All Father heard was a tired moan. Father smiled. "Come now, Vincent. A little sleep deprivation never hurt anyone."

"Father, please let me be." Vincent moaned sleepily.

"Vincent, you know I cannot let you sleep in too late." Father reminded him.

"And you know that Catherine kept me up all night." Vincent retorted.

"Nevertheless, we'll be expecting you in William's kitchen in no later than ten minutes." Father told him right before he left.

"Argh!" Vincent moaned, slowly sitting up in his bed. "Catherine, why must you keep our bond open at times like this? It seems you close it when I'd prefer to have it open, and when I wouldn't mind a rest from it – Argh!"

Slowly he slipped out of bed. He didn't move for a moment, just stood and let the world get into focus, instead of whirling around the room.

He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and grabbed the clean clothes that he had set out on a chair. Quickly, he began changing into them, as his thoughts wandered sleepily.

_Oh yes – Catherine and her cousin are coming today. Well, they may have changed their plans, what with Catherine not feeling well._

_Today I need to go on my journey. I need some time to think, time that I know will belong only to me, time where I only I will be undisturbed. Perhaps, if the sickness is to come, it will make things easier on the other Tunnel dwellers if I am away. And if it prevents the sickness, all will be well. I hope Catherine realizes that I do not wish to leave, but it is something that I feel must be done. It certainly cannot hurt – it can only help._

Vincent was about to walk out of his chamber before he hesitated. _Perhaps I should wear my cloak_, he thought hesitantly. _Just in case, Catherine and her cousin show up earlier than expected – or if Catherine closes our bond again._

He quickly donned his navy blue cloak before leaving his chamber. He darted down the halls, saying 'good morning' to whoever happened to pass by. He smiled at little Luke as Kanin passed by with him in his arms.

Vincent shook his head. How was he going to do it? How was he going to be a father? Vincent had never thought the day would come, and he certainly had never dreamed about it. It seemed too impossible to be even worth dreaming. Yet here he was, approximately six months from meeting the child face to face!

_The baby will not think anything of my appearance, _Vincent thought. _It will not know any better, so it will not mean a thing to him or her. But what would happen if my other drawback makes its appearance; what if the sickness comes back, or I start doing other mad things? What if I lose control and hurt the baby or Catherine?_

_Now how unlikely is that? _Vincent asked himself as he rounded a corner, pulling the cloak further over his face. _You do not often lose control to that extent, Vincent, and the occasional times you do, it is taken out on an object of some sort – never a person._

_But what about the time you struck Devin? _Vincent asked himself. _I would hardly call Devin in object._

_You were a child then, _Vincent's reasonable side told him. _That is all forgiven now, and practically forgotten. It is in the past – it is not of the present or the future. You are not of any danger to the baby._

Vincent stopped suddenly and perked up his ears. He could hear laughter in William's kitchen – and it sounded just like Catherine's cousin, Meg.

_Impossible!_ Vincent told himself. _Catherine is Above, asleep._

He searched their bond. Yes, that was true; Catherine was resting in her apartment. But then why did that laugh sound so much like Meg's?

_It must be my imagination_, Vincent decided. _I did not sleep well last night. It is probably a result of that. Besides, I have heard Meg speak very few words – I hardly know what her laugh sounds like._

Nevertheless, he cautiously made sure that his cloak fully covered his face, and as much of his hair, or mane, as possible before he went into William's kitchen. He seated himself at far corner, far away from the tables where everyone else was sitting.

He peeked over at the crowd on the table. Yes, just as he feared; there was someone he had never seen before sitting there, laughing and talking with Mouse, Jamie, and the other Tunnelers. She bared a resemblance to Catherine, but he could not place it. Yes, it was likely Meg.

He quickly turned his head away from her, hoping she wouldn't notice him, but kept his ears extra-alerted, while not quite eavesdropping, but so he could know when his name was spoken.

"Vincent?" he heard Father's voice behind him.

"Not now, Father – please." Vincent sighed. "Please, Father – perhaps Kanin or Mouse could accomplish the task for you?"

Father sat down next to his son. "Vincent, I don't have any tasks for you to perform. I just wanted to ask you if you noticed…" he nodded his head towards Meg's direction.

Vincent nodded, without even glancing at Meg. "Yes." He said. "Am I correct to presume that she is Meg?"

Father took a deep breath. "You know that you will have to meet her sooner or later, Vincent."

"I know." Was Vincent's response.

"And that there is nothing to be afraid of." Father continued. "She's a fine girl, and very sensible – you have met far worse people."

"I know." Vincent repeated. "I am not directly frightened to meet her, Father, but of the whole experience; Catherine being pregnant with _my_ child, when I do not recall conception. The emotions I have been feeling because of Catherine, and of the strong feelings that I have been having towards myself of late. Of the upcoming six months, and the child's entire life. About the rest of my life, about the future of the community." He looked at his father seriously in the eyes. "Everything has been changed by one simple act; one I have no memory of."

Father nodded, clearing his throat before he spoke. "It _is_ frightening once you realize that every action you do, every word you speak, could ultimately affect the rest of your life. And it is also frightening, the first time you learn you are going to be a father. But remember Vincent that you do not have to go it alone. Catherine will be helping you to help you raise the child, and Mary knows how to take care of _any_ problem that might be had." Father looked at Vincent seriously. "And remember, if you ever need to talk about anything, I'm always there."

Vincent nodded, putting his hand affectionately on his Father's shoulder. "Thank you, Father."

"I remember when Grace was six months pregnant with Devin," Father laughed a bit, although somewhat saddened by the memory. "I was in a much worse state than you. I was questioning everything I had ever done in my life. I was wondering if whether living Below had truly been a wise decision. I was wondering how on earth I was going to be a parent? But that fear subsided the moment I held Devin in my arms. I knew then and there that as long as we stuck it out together, we would make it. And you and Catherine will too."

"Does it hurt you, to speak of Grace or Margaret?" Vincent asked, quietly.

Father nodded. "Yes, it does. It is a deep pain, knowing that I will not ever again see Margaret's eyes, or hear Grace's words of encouragement. Never again, see Grace's smile, or hear Margaret's laugh. At least not in this life." He sighed. "But medicine has advanced much since Devin's birth, in the world Above and our world; Catherine should be fine."

"Do you think so?" Vincent double-checked.

Father again nodded. "I do. She's a strong, healthy, willful girl- woman. She's a strong, healthy, willful _woman_." He corrected himself. "And I have every faith that she will be fine." He glanced back at Meg. "Is there anything I can do to, er, help the meeting go smoother?" he asked.

Vincent shook his head. "I do not think so – how much does she know?"

"Not much." Father informed his youngest. "I believe that she knows you're a bit different, but I have a feeling she's not thinking 'different' to the right extreme." He smiled encouragingly at Vincent.

Vincent nodded, standing up from the table. "Perhaps you should send her along to my chamber after she's done eating."

"But you haven't had breakfast!" Father reminded his son.

Wordlessly, Vincent grabbed a few apples off of the table and left the kitchen, without Meg once seeing his face, for which he was very grateful.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

Catherine couldn't help but give a little moan. Gosh, she felt so sick! There was nothing more she'd like than to just go upchuck in the bathroom, but that was kind of hard to do when your stomach was empty.

_Ugh, food. _The thought just made Catherine sick. She stood up from the couch slowly and turned the thermostat down to 65 degrees Fahrenheit, and turned on the ceiling fan over the couch, before she lay down again.

She sighed as she used a hair-tie to pull her hair up in a half-bun. The nausea made her so hot that she had to keep the temperature low.

_I wonder how Meg and Vincent are doing. _She wondered. She searched their bond, but couldn't seem to be able to tell what Vincent was feeling. She sighed, knowing that she didn't have half the ability to feel his feelings as he did for her. She knew though, that he was feeling a feeling to an extreme, she would be able to know, so things couldn't be doing _too _poorly.

_I wonder if Mother went through this kind of nausea when she was pregnant with me, _Catherine wondered. _She most likely did – I read that a majority of w_omen do.

Catherine couldn't help but feel like she was missing a good half of her childhood. _If only Mother had lived,_ Catherine thought. _My life would have wound up so different._

She shook her head, remembering how she found all about 'the way we reproduce' from a little pamphlet, instead of the way most girls did – their mother. She remembered how she sat at home and did homework for extra credit that she didn't need, while her friends went shopping with their moms. She remembered how on Mother's Day, after her mother died, how she usually always had to explain to _someone_ that her mother had died. Of course, then they would always look embarrassed, give her some kind of awkward hug, and say 'I'm sorry'. Catherine had always hated it when people did that – it wasn't like it was their fault. But, of course, they meant well, and Catherine knew that. It just hurt to explain – maybe that's why Catherine hated to hear 'I'm sorry', because she always had to go through the pain of explaining her mother's death first.

_OI'll be here for our baby forever, _Catherine thought decidedly. _I will be here _forever_, even if it kills me. Well, almost. I can't exactly be here forever if it kills me._

She shook her head, knowing her thoughts weren't making much sense. But she knew that Vincent would think her heart was in the right place, so that was really all that mattered.

_How do I feel about this baby? _Catherine wondered. _I haven't gotten the chance to sit down and ask myself that yet! I'm going to love this baby regardless, of course, but how do I really _feel_ about it. Even though I'm going to love it, and keep it, do I truly _want_ the baby? If I could go back in time, to the day Vincent and I were sitting in his chamber… If I knew what I knew now… would I have gone ahead, plunging forward like I did? I mean, as a result of our actions, we're going to have a little family of our own! But with all the complicated situations, it brings…_

_Yes, I do want this baby! _Catherine made up her mind. _And I have a feeling, once I see it, I won't ever be able to imagine otherwise._

_Once I see it. Will the baby look like Vincent, or look… normal? _She asked. _Do I really mind? Do I really care? I mean, I've told Vincent I have no preference, but I _had_ to tell him that. How do _I_ feel on it?_

_If it is a normal baby, it will be a normal baby, and I'll know exactly what to do. _Catherine thought. _But if it's like Vincent, most everything we do will be done in guesswork. I'm sure Father and Mary remember plenty of when Vincent was a baby, but no two children are alike._

_Ultimately, for everyone's sake, including the baby's, I hope it is normal, happy, and healthy. I will love the baby a full 200 no matter what, but it seems the best that the baby looks normal. I cannot imagine what it must be like to spend your entire life trapped beneath the city, but it doesn't sound very nice. Even though Vincent acts like he doesn't mind, the longing to go see and do must hurt so badly – our child will _not_ have that pain – if only we could truly decide._

Catherine's thoughts turned to Vincent as a baby. She couldn't help but wonder what he really did look like as a baby? So maybe looks weren't the important thing, especially since Vincent had been struggling for survival, and even after they were sure he'd live, there were too many other things to worry about, such as how he thought, or _if_ he thought for that matter, and his nature, not to mention the baby's short past and hopefully very long future.

She knew looks weren't the important thing. By God, if she didn't know that before she met Vincent, she certainly knew it now. But her interest was piqued; what _did_ he look like? Elizabeth's paintings were beautiful, but hardly gave justice. Mary's descriptions were greatly detailed, but couldn't make up for the real thing. For Father, it tended to be somewhat of a sore subject, always causing him to bring up something such as 'it cannot be' and Vincent had not much more of an idea of what he looked like as an infant than what Catherine knew!

_There are no photographs taken Below – unbelievable. _Catherine thought, shaking her head. Okay, so she could buy the fact that Vincent had never seen a movie or that Below people did not discuss sexual matters. She was good with that – admired it, actually. But the no photographs bit was saddening, a shame really. How many moments had happened beneath New York City in the past forty plus years that hadn't been captured on camera, that were long forgotten? The thought made Catherine sick to her stomach.

_Not having a picture of Vincent would be horrible, if I were to never see him again. _Catherine thought. _And one day, when Father dies, as someday he certainly will, a picture of him will certainly help ease Vincent's certain pain, won't it?_

Catherine shuddered, thinking about how Vincent would be after Father died. He would be… she couldn't even think about t. He would be so distraught, so saddened, in such deep pain, that it made her want to cry just thinking about it, and she knew that her feelings were hardly hormone-induced.

_I should learn more about developing one's own film. _Catherine thought decidedly. _Learn how to develop pictures myself – Mouse could definitely do it. That way, such great moments will not be lost – and I'll always have a picture of Vincent and our baby, regardless of either of their appearances._

She sighed, slowly sitting up from the couch. She reached over to the coffee table and pulled off a scrapbook, full of pictures of her and her Mom. She smiled at all the moments she was reminded of while flipping through the pages. What if cameras did not exist? Catherine would have forgotten her mother's looks – she had already nearly forgotten her voice. A world without photography could be frightening – Catherine didn't care about how 18th century Father was – photography was beginning to become a necessity, maybe not a necessary for survival, but necessary for comfortable living, by all means.

She pulled herself off of the couch and slowly padded her way into the kitchen. Using white bread, she made herself a peanut butter sandwich and forced herself to eat it. Now that she was eating for two, she couldn't let a bit of nausea get in the way.

_I'm going to have to ask Dr. Peter if there is any kind of medication I can take to relive me of this nausea – its driving me insane!_

She quickly reproached herself. 'Insane' had a whole new meaning to her now, knowing that during the sickness, Vincent could very well be described as 'insane', or close to it, anyhow. She wished with all her heart that Father would enforce Vincent rest and take it easy for a few days before he went on 'the journey'. Between broken ribs, raw hands, gashed foreheads, and madness, she was going to lose him if they weren't careful. And her life without Vincent would be unbearable, just as his would be if something happened to her.

She shook her head, taking a bite of her peanut butter sandwich. Her thoughts had _never_ been this scattered, random or irrational before her pregnancy, And though it was a little frustrating and confusing, she liked it for a change – she was just extra-glad that Vincent could feel her feelings, but not know her thoughts – she didn't know who would be more embarrassed, him or her.

_I wonder what Meg is doing right now? _Catherine wondered while she chewed. _Is she still wandering around the Tunnels? Has she met Vincent yet? Eaten breakfast? Perhaps now that I'm feeling better I should go Below also – both Vincent and Meg will be more comfortable if I'm around._

Catherine went over to the refrigerator and pulled out a gallon of vitamin D milk. _Poor Vincent – he's terrified of meeting Meg. _Catherine sympathized with a smile as she poured herself a tall glass of milk. _Not of meeting her exactly, but of her reaction. He thinks that my whole family will be permanently mad at me when I tell them I don't want them involved in my baby's life, but is there any other way around the situation? Well, my family may shun me for awhile, and I can't afford to have Meg to do the same, which is simply why she has to meet Vincent._

_I seriously wonder how Meg will take it. Will she be frightened? Sometimes she strikes me as the type to scream and hide, and other times she strikes me as the type to walk right up to a bear and hit it over the head with her purse! Let's hope she doesn't do either one, but she won't take to Vincent like Charles did, will she? Charles just looked at Vincent and didn't have to look twice. All he saw was a normal man, and he didn't feel anything more needed said. He's the _only_ person Vincent has ever met like that – Meg won't do that. She accepts and embraces differences, to be sure, and she doesn't judge a book by its cover, but she'll have to be a bit frightened or very surprised, to say the least. I know I was._

Catherine shook her head as she finished drinking her milk. How many times had she regretted how she reacted to Vincent? A million, at least, she was sure. She would never forget his face, of utter sadness, shame, of all hope lost. If she had it her way, he would never have to feel that way again. She knew that he would likely feel that way again, because not only were they natural feelings anyone has, but they were feeling he had a tendency to feel, especially of late.

The phone rang, so Catherine went over to it and picked it up. "Hello, Cathy Chandler." She said.

"Hey, Catherine – this is Mike." It was Meg's husband.

"Oh, hey." Catherine greeted him. "Is everything okay?"

"Yep, everything is right as rain over here." Mike said. "I was just missing my wife – is she available?"

"No, she's-she's not." Catherine said, while her mind raced. Where was she to tell him Meg was? Meeting Vincent alone? No – that'd give Mike wrong ideas. In her basement? Nah, that wouldn't work? Asleep? No, then Mike would get concerned.

"Catherine, are you still there?" Mike sounded a bit concerned.

"Oh, yes, I'm still here." Catherine said, again giving her attention to the phone call at hand.

"I said 'what are you two up to'?" Mike asked.

"N-Nothing much." Catherine said. "She got in the night before last, and we got to my apartment to freshen up a bit, and then went out to eat, and then came home and went to bed. This morning I was feeling a bit sick, but didn't want her fun to be spoiled, so even though she insisted on staying home with me-"

"She's out seeing the city of New York, eh?" Mike said.

"Yes, something of the like." Catherine replied.

"All right then – when is a good time for me to call her back?" Mike asked.

Catherine thought. "She'll call you later. She'll probably be back at about lunch – she'll call you then."

"Okay, see you later. ' Bye Catherine." Mike said.

"'Bye." Catherine echoed, hanging up the phone.

_I wonder how Mike will take the news. _Catherine wondered, wandering over to the stack of bills she needed to take care of. _How will he feel about Vincent and his world? I wonder what Bailee and Cameryn's reactions will be to Vincent!_

She sighed. There was no way to know, until Meg came back. It was going to be one long morning.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

Vincent paced back and forth in his chamber. Meg would be coming any minute now, and he needed to decide how he was going to do this. The meeting had to go just right, or it would go all wrong.

_The candles – they need to be lit. _Vincent thought. _Darkness will only make her nervous. But my cloak – I must wear my cloak._

Remembering his cloak was already on; he just double-checked to make sure the hood was covering his face. It was, so he continued his pacing.

_She will most likely stand outside my chamber and ask you come in. What will I do then! I cannot say 'Come in' and let her see me just like that! But I can also not tell her that she cannot come in._

_I should have discussed this more thoroughly before now!_ Vincent realized. _Is it best for a person to do it quickly, or slowly? Catherine saw me all at once, suddenly, and the effect… wound up being very good. Yes, fast, quick, and simple seems to the best way-_

Vincent heard footsteps approaching his chamber. His heart started beating quicker than it had ever beat before, for he knew that Meg was the one approaching his chamber, and that the next few minutes could affect many people's lives forever.

Quickly, acting on impulses, he dimmed his chamber a bit. He didn't know why, but it seemed to be a good idea.

"Vincent?" he heard a woman's voice outside her chamber. "Vincent?" It had to be Meg, for he did not recognize the voice.

He took a deep breath. "Yes?" he said.

"This is Catherine's cousin, Meg." Meg said hesitantly.

"Why is Catherine not with you?" Vincent asked her.

Meg paused. "Because she wasn't feeling good, but she insisted I come meet you anyway. Please – may I come in?"

There was a pause on the other side of the curtain. For a moment, Meg wondered if Vincent heard her. "May I come in?" she inquired again.

"I do not want to frighten you." Vincent's voice came from the other side of the curtain.

Meg wrinkled her brow. "Why would you frighten me?"

"Not intentionally." Vincent answered. "But I would frighten you because I am not what you think me to be. I am different than other men."

"So are you trying to say you don't want me to see you?" Meg asked, downright confused.

"I am saying that it is your own choice." Was Vincent's reply.

Meg shook her head. What was making him act this way? Why did he not seem to want her to see her? It wasn't like she hadn't seen appearance problems before. In fact, her and Mike's daughter, Bailee was adopted from Asia, with a seriously cleft lip. Thanks to _Operation Smile_, thankfully, Bailee's problem was resolved, but the point remained; Meg had seen a whole lot of ugly, and certainly, Vincent didn't have any problems as big as a cleft lip!

"Vincent, I assure you that I won't be scared of you." Meg said. "I've seen people of all kinds before, and I've never seen one as 'ugly' or 'frightening'."

"There is a first time for everything." Vincent said quietly. "I am worried of your reaction to me, your feelings towards me and this entire community, for it is almost all Catherine has left."

"What do you mean?" Meg said slowly, a shiver going up her spine. Something told her that this experience was going be to a little different than she expected.

"Our world must be kept a secret from your world, just as I need to be kept a secret from your world. Many people depend on this world for safety, but without it, I could not exist."

Meg shook her head. "I don't get it." _What is he talking about? _Meg wondered, an uneasy feeling growing in her stomach.

"Catherine and I have every faith that you, your husband, and your children will keep our world a secret – we have no doubt." Vincent assured her. "And Catherine has every faith that you will overlook my flaws, even more, hardly notice them. But I have only met one person who has done that very thing and, with all due respect, I don't think you will be the second."

"W-What kind of flaws are we talking about?" Meg tried not to let her voice quiver. She was getting a sinking feeling in her stomach that whatever Vincent's difference was, it exceeded a simple scarring, burn, or even a cleft lip.

She heard Vincent take a deep breath. "I have told you that I was adopted, haven't I?"

"Yes." Meg said with a nod. "You mentioned something about you and your brother being adopted brothers, yes."

"I was found outside St. Vincents Hospital as an infant." Vincent explained. "A Helper of ours, that is, someone from your world who gives aid to ours, found me in a dumpster. She took me Below, where she knew I would be safe. Father took me in, raised me, and taught me everything I know."

Meg wrung her fingers uneasily while Vincent continued. "Had I been found by anyone else in your world, one of two things would have happened to me. They would have either killed me, or used me for scientific research and experimentation."

"I don't get it." Was Meg's reply. "Just because of your appearance?" She paused before adding hesitantly "What _do_ you look like, Vincent?"

The curtain that served as a door to Vincent's chamber slid open. Meg took a deep breath and stepped inside. She could see well, even though the room, or chamber, as she was learning to call them, was dimly lit, a few candles here and there. She could see a beautiful stained glass window, and right below that, a rather large bed. She saw a table, piled high with books and papers, and a chair beside that, also large and sturdy. There was an antique jukebox over in one corner, though it was not turned on. She saw a few trunks in the chamber, several of them heavy steamer trunks. And she saw the silhouette of a large man in the far corner of the chamber.

"Vincent?" she asked tentatively, taking a careful step towards him.

"Yes?" Was his quiet reply.

"We adopted my daughter, Bailee, when she was just a baby." Meg said. "We adopted her from Asia. She… she had a cleft lip – a complete hole leading from her top lip to her nose. We took her to a place were she underwent a fifteen-minute surgery, and she's fine now, but…" she took a deep breath. "There were plenty of other people waiting around for the same surgery, old, young, short, tall, all with similar problems. It was very humbling, and I have every doubt that your appearance is _that_ bad."

"My differences far exceed my bifurcated lip." Was Vincent's patient reply.

'_Far exceed my bifurcated lip'._ Meg replayed Vincent's words in her head. _Implying that his upper lip is split- but what's the big deal about that? Besides, he talks as clear as a bell, so his lip can't be _that_ bad._

"I have a nature," Vincent went on to explain. "That is… inhuman. There have been times in my life, twice, where I have completely lost control, going into this state of total animal madness."

"The sickness." Meg said slowly.

"Yes." Vincent verified. "We do not know what causes it, or what makes it go away, but during the times of 'the sickness', I retreat off into our lower Tunnels by myself. After a few days of complete isolation from anyone else, the sickness leaves my mind, and I am mentally normal again. It has only occurred twice – once when I was an adolescent, and again somewhat more recently."

"Mr. Wells and Catherine were talking of some journey – does that have anything to do with it?" Meg wanted to know.

She saw the silhouette nod. "Yes. Things have gotten a bit… out-of-sorts lately, and if I can prevent causing my family pain or hardship in any way, I will. I am hoping on leaving this afternoon, to retreat on my own for several days. Perhaps the aloneness heals the sickness, and if it does, perhaps it can act as a preventative." He paused before he continued. "Catherine did not see me for ten days after she met me, her reaction to me going… relatively well." he was going to say very well until he remembered the pain of the glass hitting his head. "Perhaps we can just talk, and get to know each other, before you can see me."

Meg nodded slowly. "Sounds fair enough. But Vincent, you've gotten my curiosity piqued, and…"

Taking a deep breath, Vincent took a bold step into the light.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"Catherine did not see me for ten days after she met me, her reaction to me going… relatively well." Vincent told her. "Perhaps we can just talk, and get to know each other, before you can see me."

_So I can know the real him before I see him, understandable, I guess, _Meg thought. She then nodded slowly. "Sounds fair enough. But Vincent, you've gotten my curiosity piqued, and…"

The next thing she knew, Vincent had stepped into the light. Meg's eyes traveled from his boots, up his trousers, up his shirt, to his face. She let out a shriek of surprise.

Vincent took a hold of her arm. "Meg, it is all right – I will not hurt you!"

She nodded, trembling, never taking eyes off of his face. True, he did have somewhat of a split lip, leading up to a flattened nose, broad cheekbones, and an actual _mane_. She shook her head in disbelief. "You look like a… like a…" she searched for the words.

"Like an animal?" Vincent attempted to finish her sentence. "Like a lion? Like a cat? Yes, I have heard it all before."

Meg's shoulders slumped. "Oh, I didn't mean-"

"It is all right." Vincent said, holding up a gloved hand. "It is true – why should I be ashamed of the truth?"

Meg couldn't help but to continue staring at him. He was so… different looking. Alienated looking. So different from anyone she had ever met!

Vincent reached out, and took her arm. He then proceeded to run her hand back and forth over his cheek, which was covered with a soft down. "Most people ask to touch." He explained. "And I find it helps them believe what they see."

Meg nodded as he ran her hand through the soft feeling of the – was that fur that grew on his face? she couldn't help but pull her hand away, still staring at him in somewhat frightened shock.

Vincent nodded as if he didn't mind. "It is all right – perhaps you will grow used to it as time goes on."

Meg again nodded, still staring at Vincent, partly with fear, partly with surprise, and also partly with amazement, how such a creature could exist.

"Your eyes." She said suddenly.

"My eyes?" he questioned.

She nodded. "They look just like human eyes, or more like what a humans eyes should look like." Meg stated, realizing all of this as she spoke. "Your eyes have expression to them, and they seem to shine with… intelligence and kindness." She searched for the words.

He nodded. "As I have been told."

"Is that it?" Meg asked hesitantly, giving him another once-over. "You don't have any more surprises like that that you're planning on springing on me?"

Vincent shook his head. "Not that I know of." He pulled a black glove off of his hand, revealing his strong hand and fingers, all covered with fur, and his claws.

Meg gasped, taking a natural step away. "Those are claws!" she couldn't help but say. Realizing what she had just said, she tried to cover it up. "I mean, I'm sorry! It just slipped-"

"I understand." Vincent said. "And it's true." He pulled the glove back on. "Because of my appearance, I _cannot_ visit your world, except only at night. If I was caught up there," he shook his head. "I am afraid to imagine what would happen. Death or experimentation for certain."

"But you're a human being." Meg said slowly. "Aren't you?"

Vincent nodded. "I have been raised to believe so, yes."

"You can't just kill a human being, or experiment on them without permission…" Meg tried to understand.

"But they won't see me as a human being." Vincent said. "Perhaps an 'evolution gone wrong' animal, an animal that it is evolving into a human, but they won't see me as an actual human."

"But evolution isn't right." Meg said. "Animals don't _evolve_." _Good job, Meg, _she told herself sarcastically. _Get in a scientific debate the first time you meet Catherine's almost certain fiancée. Way to go._

"True." Vincent agreed. "I completely agree. But unfortunately, scientists don't. Science is about making sense, and evolution and the 'big bang' theory simply do not make sense."

"Exactly!" Meg said, surprised to see that Vincent knew and agreed with her much about one of her favorite subjects. "They say that 'there was nothing until an explosion happened, and then there was earth', but that's impossible!"

Vincent nodded, surprised to see her so well thought-out in the science area. "If there was nothing, then how can nothing explode?" he continued.

"That's just what I was thinking!" Meg exclaimed. "Did someone tell you this, or are these your own thoughts?"

"My own thoughts." Vincent stated. "Father encouraged us as children to read widely and think broadly, to get everyone's opinion before making our own decisions."

Meg nodded, impressed. "Your father seems like he's a very smart and cultured man."

"He is." Vincent agreed. "And he insists that everyone should be. He makes sure that no part of the brain goes to waste, and that no one lacks in manners for any occasion." Vincent couldn't help but chuckle. "Though I doubt I will ever be at a formal party, being served twenty different courses, he certainly made sure that I knew what to do."

Meg gave a slight smile, not being able to quite figure out how that was possibly _funny_, how he could laugh at the drawbacks his appearance had. But then again, he probably didn't consider a formal party a big loss, and he was used to not being able to do things such as that.

"The baby." Meg said suddenly, looking at him again, trying to digest what he really looked like. "Where will the baby live? Where will Catherine live?"

"The baby will live Below, and Catherine, Above." Vincent told her, while succeeding on keeping his face its normal shade. Not that many people were able to tell when he blushed. "Catherine thinks Below will be a better environment for the child, no matter the child's appearance."

_Wait, that's right!_ Meg realized. _If its Vincent's baby as well as Catherine's, it could look like… like an animal, no offense to Vincent or anything. This could wind up… disastrous!_

"Wait, if the baby looks like you…" Meg said slowly, a frightened feeling again building up inside her.

"Then we have much to fear." Vincent finished. "Yes, we are all aware of that, especially since Father insists on holding conferences about it every fifteen minutes." His eyes twinkled, trying to make light of the situation.

"But on a more serious note," Vincent continued. "We will just have to make it through whatever position we're put in, even if it is difficult, and the baby will be loved regardless."

"Of course!" Meg said quickly, thinking of her Bailee's slight scar from her nose to her lip, and of Cameryn's possible autism. "Of course the baby will be loved no matter its appearance!"

"Which brings us to," Vincent paused. "To why we decided to let you in on our world."

"Why?" Meg was a little confused on that aspect of the situation. If anyone finding out about Below or Vincent was so dangerous, why tell more people than absolutely necessary?

"For help." Vincent stated. "Somehow Catherine has to keep the rest of her family, and as many friends as possible, out of the pregnancy situation, for they more than likely will never meet the baby."

"Then we just won't tell them." Meg said simply.

Vincent shook his head. "No, Catherine wanted them to know. She just figured she could tell them that the baby lived full-time with its father," he squirmed a bit uncomfortably at the thought of him being a father, "Which is true."

"But you need my help on keeping the rest of the relatives' curiosity down, for when some of them certainly get to such an angry point at Catherine, they'd shun her." Meg said. "And if they do wind up shunning her, being there for her."

Vincent nodded. "Your world is full of fear, anger, and shunning. Father says it is all your world knows."

"We know happiness too!" Meg argued. "Just… never enough peace because…"

"Because you have to live with fear. Without fear, you would be crazy."

"Completely daft." Meg agreed. She looked over at Vincent again, giving him a full once over yet once again. "You know, you aren't half bad. You're smart, kind, and a little funny, just like Catherine said." She smiled with approval. "Cathy couldn't have done better."

Vincent's heart soared with joy at those words. He had wondered so many times what Charles Chandler would have thought of him, but never had gotten the chance to find out. Now it seemed that Meg, who apparently had very high standards in men, fully approved of him.

"Thank you, Meg." Vincent said, nodding his head in a slight bow. "Thank you very much."

"Don't you mean Merci_ beaucoup_?" Meg teased. "I heard you teaching that French lesson the other day – who would have thought that Catherine would have been interested in a man who knew French?"

"Is that a compliment?" Vincent questioned, unsure.

"Yes, it is." Meg laughed. "Look, I'd love to stay and talk some more, but I've got to get back to Catherine – she's not feeling well."

Vincent shook his head. "She is feeling fine, as of right now. Very curious on how we're doing, but fine."

Meg wrinkled her brow. "I don't understand how you do that."

"How I do what?"

"How you know what Catherine is thinking and feeling." Meg said.

Vincent shook his head. "I cannot tell what she is thinking, but yes, I can feel her feelings, and have for the longest time now. It as if… she is in my heart, as people would generally say of one being… in love." He almost succeeded on not blushing, the best he had ever done while confessing his love for Catherine to an almost total stranger. "Her heart is in mine, and mine in hers. It is so difficult to comprehend, much less explain…"

"Well, I certainly don't get it." Meg stated, re-announcing her confusion.

"Neither do I, and no one ever will, I suppose." Vincent said on how their bond worked. "Just the same, you might want to go back Above – and remind her that curiosity killed the cat."

_Or the cat's girlfriend, _Meg mused humorously, though not saying that out loud. Now _that_ would be just downright rude. "Well, I guess this is goodbye for now?"

Vincent nodded. "I am leaving this afternoon, but not before I see Catherine again, and I suspect I will be back within a few days, before you leave."

"Today is Sunday." Meg said. "I don't have to leave until next Sunday."

Vincent nodded. "Good then. I will show you back to Catherine's apartment."

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

Catherine sighed as she lay back down on the sofa. _What is going on right now? Have Vincent and Meg met yet? What did they talk about? What are they talking about? Is everyone okay? Is everything okay? Did Meg even find her way to the community, or did she get lost?_

Before she had the chance to wonder about anything else, Meg came through the apartment door. "Catherine!" she exclaimed, sitting down beside her cousin, taking Catherine's hand. "Are you all right?"

Catherine nodded. "Yeah, I was just resting a bit. Well?"

"Well what?" Meg asked, teasingly.

"Did you meet Vincent?" Catherine asked, exasperated.

"You never mentioned you had such a lovely boyfriend?" Meg teased.

Catherine sat up straight. "'Lovely'? did you just say 'lovely'?"

"Well, on this inside, that is." Meg admitted.

"But you met him? You saw him?" Catherine asked, to which Meg nodded. "What do you think?"

"I can see why you like him." Meg approved. "He's very kind, smart – it seems everyone Below likes him. And he made a joke a time or two, as well."

Catherine sighed, leaning back on the sofa. "He's not too often too humorous - He was trying to please you."

"Well, he did a good job." Meg said. "And he's waiting for you."

"What?" Catherine sat back up again.

"He walked me back." Meg clarified. "And he wants to see you before he goes on his 'journey'. He's waiting over by the Tunnel entrance, in your basement."

"Why didn't you tell me that straightaway?" Catherine asked, pulling herself off of the couch and goes towards the door.

"You might want to get out of your pajamas." Meg noted.

Catherine looked down at her pajamas and light blue dressing gown. "Your right." She said, frustrated. She quickly went into her room to change.

Meg laughed merrily. It was good to see Catherine flustered, in love, with a man she knew she'd be happy with. Sure, Vincent wasn't the hottest guy on the block, and he certainly led an unusual life, away from all the neon, glamour, and glitz that Catherine was used to. But the way Catherine's eyes looked when she spoke of him and Vincent's eyes when he spoke of her… Meg knew that Vincent and Catherine had something, and it wasn't just a major crush, or short-term deal.

Catherine emerged from her room, wearing jeans and a crumpled T-shirt, her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, her shoes on, but barely tied. "How do I look?" she asked breathlessly as she tied her second shoe.

"Um… do you want me to say you look the best?" Meg asked. "Um… define 'the best'?"

Catherine sighed, looking into the mirror. "I'm a wreck, my hair is a mess, I've got these huge bags under my eyes and-"

"And you're pregnant." Meg reminded her cousin. "Your entitled to 'stay-at-home, don't-care-what-I-look-like' days. Today is one of them, and Vincent won't care. I have a feeling he'd love you if you were blue, wrinkled, bald, and were missing all your teeth."

Catherine sighed again. "Your right."

"Of course I am." Meg's merry laugh rang through the apartment. "Now go! He's waiting on you!"

"Mike called – go ahead and call him back." Catherine called as she left the apartment.

_Oh no, Mike. _Meg thought. _How am I going to explain this all to him?_ She went over to the phone and quickly dialed her number, before she changed her mind.

"Hello?" she recognized her husband's voice on the third ring. The sound of his voice filled her with sadness, homesickness.

"Hey honey." She answered.

"Meg, baby! How's New York?" Mike asked.

"How is it?" Meg asked. "Busy and loud – luckily Catherine's apartment is eighteen stories up in the air, otherwise it'd be too noisy to get any sleep at night! How are my little angels?"

"The girls are great." Mike said. "They- girls, don't mess with that! They are fine."

Meg giggled. "Having a two-sided conversation, eh?"

"Yeah." Was Mike's reply. "So, what's the story of Catherine's boyfriend? Met him yet?"

"Um… yeah, this morning, actually." Meg said. "Catherine was feeling sick, but she wanted me to go ahead and meet him, so I did."

"And?" Mike coaxed.

"And what?" Meg replied, stalling for time.

"What do you think of him?" Mike asked.

"He's, er, um… he's nice, smart, friendly, intelligent – you'd like him." Meg said. "He even has the same theories on science that I do."

"Oh no!" Mike laughed. "More science-crazy people in the family are all we need!"

"Well, it seems he's better with literature and language." Meg reflected, remembering all of the books in Father's study, all the time Vincent had on his hands, and the poetic way Vincent spoke. "Um, honey? It seems we've got a slight… difficulty on our hands though."

"How? Why? What?" Mike wanted to know.

"Catherine and Vincent love each other, and he's very good for her, and I hear that she's pretty good for him. But…"

"But what?" Mike asked, concerned.

"He's different. His entire family is different." She attempted to explain.

"What do you mean by 'different'?" Mike asked.

"It's so… sci-fi that I can't explain it. But they are good people, the best." Meg said. "Perhaps it'll be easier to explain when I get home, once all of this is settled in me. It's still kind of a shock."

"What is?" Mike asked, getting a little annoyed with all of the mystery.

"I'll explain when I get home." Meg said. "But don't worry; I'm perfectly safe. We saw _Fiddler on the Roof _last night." She changed the subject.

"You did?" Mike asked. "Was it good?"

"Well, it wasn't Topol, if that's what you mean." Meg said. "But it was excellent, to say the least. And then afterwards, we went out for ice cream."

"Yum… ice cream." Mike said. "And then what did you do?"

Meg began giving her husband all of the details of her trip. Finally, Mike said he had to go.

"I miss you." He said.

"Me too." Meg said truthfully. "I love you. ' Bye."

"Love you, 'bye." Mike said.

Meg hung up the phone and gave a contented sigh. She wondered how things were going with Vincent and Catherine.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"I'm just going to miss you." Catherine said quietly, looking across the narrow hall to Vincent.

"I know." Vincent said. "But don't you see? It could greatly help all of us. I have no wish you leave you, my family, everyone I love. I have no desire to be alone for what could become weeks. But if it is not done, the consequences…" he shook his head, thinking about what might happen if he had the sickness while Catherine was pregnant.

"Do you seriously think it will prevent the sickness from coming? Are you certain the sickness _is_ coming?" Catherine asked.

Vincent nodded. "The more Father and I have talked about it, the more likely it seems that the sickness is coming. And while it may not prevent it, it hopefully will not affect anyone Below if I'm gone, and it may be much milder."

Catherine nodded. "Well, in that case, you must go." She buried her head in his chest, giving him a hug.

Vincent took a couple deep breaths, his heart pounding. Would he ever get used to Catherine treating him like that, a real man? She was just so… he couldn't find that words to describe her. And she of all people wanted him – unbelievable.

"I'm proud of you." Catherine said suddenly.

"Proud?" Vincent asked.

"For going off alone, even though you don't want to." Catherine said. "For the entire community, of course, my especially for me and the baby… just in case."

Vincent shook his head. "I can only imagine what your father would say to your pregnancy and about me."

"I know what I'd say to him." Catherine said. "There was a song in _Fiddler on the Roof_ that made me think of you and daddy, what I would tell daddy if he were still alive. I never made the connection until last night, when we saw it though."

"How does it go?" Vincent asked, having never before seen the play.

"Well," Catherine took a deep breath. "I don't exactly _sing_ – can I just recite it?"

"Whichever you wish." Vincent said, waiting.

"Well, here is goes." Catherine took another deep breath before starting.

"_How can I hope to make you understand? _

_Why I do what I do. _

_Why I must travel to a distant land _

_Far from the home I love_"

"_Once I was happily content to be_

_As I was, where I was_

_Close to the people who are close to me_

_Here in the home I love_"

"_Who could see that a man would come who would change the shape of my dreams?_

_Helpless now I stand with him, watching older dreams grow dim_"

"_Oh, what a melancholy choice this is_

_Wanting home, wanting him_

_Closing my heart to every hope but his_

_Leaving the home I love"_

"_There where my heart has settled long ago_

_I must go, I must go_

_Who could imagine I'd be wandering so_

_Far from the home I love"_

"_Yet, there with my love, I'm home"_

Catherine finished, finding that she had started singing the last few verses.

Vincent opened his eyes after Catherine finished. "That was beautiful." He stated.

"The lyrics? I thought so." Catherine said.

He shook his head. "Not just the lyrics, but your voice. Perhaps you will give us entertainment one night over supper."

Catherine could tell that he was half-joking, that he did like her voice, but the entertainment over supper was meant to lighten up the situation. She sighed, reburying her head in his hard chest. "I'm going to miss you."

"It will not be for long." He reminded her. "And I will always be nearby – remember that." He referred to their bond.

"I will." She said.

A great longing filled Vincent's heart. It was a moment like this that kissing her seemed so appropriate, a kiss goodbye. It was times like this when there would be nothing more to please him than put him lips on hers. But the words 'it cannot be' rang in his head, and he was reminded once again of his differences, how a life like other men he couldn't lead.

He sighed, making himself content to nuzzle in her hair. "Take good care of the baby." He whispered into her ear.

Catherine giggled, his breath tickling her ear. "I will." She said. "Do you think you'll come back before Meg leaves?"

He nodded. "I will try, and I will have you know as soon as I arrive home."

"I love you."

He could have died right then and there. It wasn't too much of a rarity when those words sprang from her lips, but whenever they did, his heart felt like it stopped. Never, ever, in his wildest dreams, had he dreamed him meeting such a woman.

"Well?" Catherine prodded.

"_Je t'aime aussi, ma chérie_." He said. "I love you too, my darling."

He felt her heart fluttered, and he knew he had said the right thing. It was rare that they use terms like 'my love' or 'my darling', but he could see that it had its uses in some occasions.

"I-I guess this is goodbye." Catherine said awkwardly.

He nodded. "More or less, yes."

"I can't imagine that Father is too thrilled about this 'journey."

"But he realizes it must me done." He gave her one last hug. "Goodbye, Catherine."

"Goodbye." She said as he turned his back to her and walked away. "I-I love you." She whispered, knowing he couldn't hear her, but that was all right – maybe he would feel it.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"I'm back." Catherine called as she stepped back inside her apartment. She noticed Meg sitting on the sofa, looking into space. "Meg, what's the matter?"

Meg shook her head. "It's sinking in. And it's all such a shock." She quickly looked over at her cousin. "Naturally you can't expect me to-"

"No, no, it's all right." Catherine assured Meg. "Vincent said you took it well – one of the best reactions he's ever got."

"Was that meant as humor?" Meg asked. "'One of the best reactions he's ever gotten'?"

"Well, he didn't say it, but you reacted much better than I did." Catherine admitted. "Once Devin, Vincent's brother, brought a man Below. He was covered with tumors – harmless tumors, but he was still… deformed just the same. He took one look a Vincent and didn't say a word about Vincent's looks."

"To be polite?"

"No, because he thought Vincent looked normal. That was the best Vincent was ever treated by someone who had just met him. It seems that children and people with abnormalities accept him easier than us normal people. You must be the best reaction he's gotten, since your normal."

"Children? Aren't they frightened?"

"Sometimes." Catherine admitted. "One little boy, Erik – you met him, he was a little surprised, and then asked Vincent what his parents looked like. Vincent said that he had never met his parents, so he didn't know. And then Erik said 'well, I'll bet you'd know them if ya saw them!'"

Meg laughed. "What did Vincent say to that?"

"What could he say? He just laughed." Catherine replied.

"Doesn't it hurt his feelings, when someone treats him like that?"

Catherine took a deep breath. "I have trouble feeling him like he feels me, but I'd imagine, yes, it does hurt him. If an innocent child says something or someone like that, I don't think it bothers him all that much. And he realizes he's never going to get a normal reaction, but I think when someone _continues_ to be afraid of him, or if they deliberately say something about his appearance or nature to hurt his feelings…"

Meg nodded, understanding. "Everyone Below likes Vincent, it seemed."

"We all think very highly of him." Catherine said. "He's so kind, friendly, good-hearted, brave, handsome, hard-working, chivalric, noble, polite, good-looking," the adjectives poured from her mouth until Meg interrupted with a laugh.

"And it seems that you are wildly in love with him." Meg laughed. "He knows that, right?"

"He knows exactly what I think of him, I hope." Catherine said. "Though I don't think he agrees with my describing words."

"And how does he feel about you?"

"He loves me, I think." Catherine said slowly.

"You _think_?" Meg questioned.

"Oh, he loves me, beyond any doubt." Catherine said quickly. "And romantically, yes, I think so. It's just… hard to tell sometimes."

"Oh." Meg said, patiently waiting for elaboration.

"Father has always told us 'it cannot be', meaning that living a life _together_ is impossible, marriage, children, and a happy life we're always dreaming about."

"Why not?" Meg asked. "All you'd have to do is disappear from the face of the earth and go Below."

Catherine shook her head. "Vincent thinks I'm doing too much good at the DA's office to quit. And he can't move up here, of course."

"Well, your kind of moving down there, aren't you?" Meg asked. "You're going to live down there, just have an address Above, right?"

Catherine nodded. "Sort of."

"So couldn't you still marry him, and you're obviously already having a baby – what's wrong?"

Catherine sighed. "Because of all our limitations."

"What limitations?"

"This baby wasn't supposed to happen, like I told you before." Catherine said slowly. "And I also told you before that we weren't supposed to have sex. Maybe it makes more sense to you now."

Meg nodded. "Go on."

"It happened when, essentially, Vincent was in a state of madness, the sickness." Catherine explained. "It was partially my fault, but I didn't _know_ he wasn't thinking clearly!"

"So he raped you?" Meg asked.

"No, yes, yes, no." Catherine answered. "No, he didn't at all. It was sex, not rape."

Meg nodded. "So what's the problem?"

"Well, seeing is how he wasn't in his right mind, he has no memory of it." Catherine said. "For starters."

Meg nodded. "Oh. Well, while I know a person can never go back in time, can't you just, er, re-make that memory? It might help him – I'm sure he feels horrible."

Catherine shook her head. "No! We- we can't."

"Why not?"

Catherine hesitated. She looked over at her door, which was locked, and over at her French doors, which were covered with curtains. She quickly pulled off her T-shirt. "This is why." Catherine stated, pointing to one of the many white scars caused by Vincent's claws. Some of the scars had been deep enough to now be somewhat raised scars.

"Oh my god." Meg whispered, her hand flying up to her mouth, tears filling her eyes. "Cathy, I'm so sorry!"

"It's all right." Catherine said, pulling her shirt back on. "I'm all right."

"You can't be!" Meg said. "He hurt you. You're hurt!"

"I'm fine." Catherine assured her. "Nothing oxygen peroxide and Neosporin couldn't fix – seriously, I'm fine."

"Does he know about this?" Meg asked, referring to the scars.

Catherine nodded. "I told him. He thinks they are worse then they are though, I think."

"You haven't shown him?" Meg asked, surprised.

"Heck no!" Catherine said. "That's deemed somewhat… inappropriate Below. And the temptation…"

"The risk would be too great." Meg said. "Don't do it, Cathy – he could hurt you again."

"Our thoughts exactly." Catherine said.

"So even if you got married…" Meg said slowly.

Catherine shook her head. "We _cannot_. Don't you understand? Never again." Her eyes filled with tears.

"Now maybe that's not true." Meg protested, handing a tissue to her cousin. "You said so yourself that he wasn't in his right mind, and I'm _sure_ he didn't mean to hurt you. Maybe if you try again-"

"We can't!" Catherine exclaimed, standing up. "Don't you get it? We can't! _Never, ever._"

"Who said, God?" Meg questioned.

"Practically." Catherine said, thinking of Father. "Father said it."

"You and Vincent are grown adults." Meg reminded Catherine. "You can make your own sexual decisions, Cathy."

"And defy Father?" Catherine shook her head. "Do you know how often Vincent does that? Like, one time in a million chances."

"Given a chance to choose between his love life and his father, which one, you think a man will choose?" Meg asked.

Catherine again shook her head. "I _cannot_ be responsible for grief between Father and Vincent!"

Meg sighed. "Well, you've _got_ to do _something_." She said. "You should try again – the slightest pain and the two of you stop."

"If possible." Catherine said. "Who says we'll have the willpower and self-control?"

"His claws were real long." Meg remembered. "Perhaps he can cut them, so they won't dig so easily into your skin."

Catherine shook her head. "He's tried. Once as a child, he hurt someone with his claws, so Father used surgical equipment to cut his claws, but his claws grew back in a matter of hours."

Meg shook her head. "Nails – or claws – don't grow that fast."

"And men don't look like lions." Catherine reminded Meg. "Vincent's special."

"Well, it doesn't take _hours_ to make love." Meg said as the idea persisted. "At least it doesn't have to. Cut them, make out, and get dressed, before the claws grow back."

Catherine shook her head. "It's a lot of effort to cut his claws." She said. "They are _really_ thick and hard – only Father can cut them. And he'd want to know why, probably, and besides, Vincent could probably hurt me other ways, too."

"How?" Meg asked.

Catherine thought. "Well, he weighs _at least_ one hundred pounds more than me."

"Pish-tosh." Meg said with a flip of her hand. "If it was five hundred more pounds than you, sure, I'd worry, but one hundred to two hundred more pounds? Big deal."

"He's _much_ bigger than me, not just weight." Catherine reminded Meg. "And he's so strong – he could break me with absolutely no effort."

"But he loves you – why would he do that?"

"Accidentally." Catherine said. "Purely on accident. And his fangs – they left puncture marks." She motioned to her left thigh, which was covered by jeans.

"But he wasn't in his right mind." Meg said gently. "Try again, Catherine – please. I'm encouraging you!"

"And I'm politely declining!" Catherine exclaimed. "Thanks but no thanks."

Meg sighed. "Physical love is supposed to be pure and simple, Cathy. Not complicated, plotted, and dangerous."

"Well, instead this entire relationship is pure and simple." Catherine said. "A relationship you could air on a G-rated national television channel. Aside from 'the mishap', the one time we had sex which really doesn't count, we've never even kissed."

"And nothing is wrong with it!" Meg exclaimed. "Just remember, if you _do_ ever want to take the risks again, I'm here for you."

Catherine nodded. "I'm good with that – thanks. So, what do you want to do today?"

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

Vincent leaned against the wall to catch his breath. He guessed he had already walked a good six miles in the past hour, in attempt to get as far away from the Tunnels as fast as he could.

_Catherine is in pain, _Vincent realized, feeling Catherine through their bond. _Longing. Lustful longing. But why? I cannot give her what she needs_.

Frustrated, he hiked onwards. _Every time Catherine gets involved with another man, it hurts. It hurts me as if I would die. And yet, if I really love her, I should let her go, so she can have the relationship every woman needs, what Catherine deserves._

_But she doesn't want another man! _He argued with himself. _If she did, she would have long sought another man out. Yet she stopped dating Tom Gunther, didn't marry Elliot Burch, for me. Because she wants me. Even though she can't have me._

_Perhaps she doesn't want you to feel bad. _Thoughts wrestled inside of him. _Maybe she's afraid you will hurt her if she tells you she doesn't love you in a romantic way._

_Then how does that explain the baby? _He asked himself. _She obviously wanted to have sex or she would have refused and sought out Father._

_You would have forced her then, and you know it!_ He thought. _And you would have only hurt her worse that way, and she knew it. You're making her life miserable!_

_No, I'm not! _He argued with himself. _I'm making it harder, to be sure, but she's enjoying her new found life. She must be._

_This talking back and forth is reminding me of something, _Vincent realized. And he knew what it was.

When he was about six or seven, he started reading _The Hobbit_. Most children had trouble reading that book at such a tender age, but Vincent had read so many books by that time that he had no problem at all reading and comprehending the words, except for when they were in a pretend language. There was a character, Vincent recalled, that he favored. At the time, he didn't know why. He thought maybe it was because the character was funny, and though he was evil, Vincent felt compassion for him. But now that he was older, and had read about the character in the sequels, he had a different perspective.

_Sméagol and I are not that different, _Vincent realized. _We both have two natures, struggling back and forth, and if we aren't careful, that darker nature will take over._

Vincent knew that was rather unfair of him, comparing himself to essentially one of the villains of the story, but he did see some similarity. True enough, Vincent didn't argue with himself out loud, and his darker nature was still him. Sméagol and Gollum was more like a split personality. Maybe they weren't so similar after all.

_Except for having two natures, one human and another… its origin unimaginable._


	17. Chapter 17

"I'm so ugly." Catherine frowned as she held a dress in front of her in the mirror.

"You are not." Meg laughed, taking the dress from Catherine and hanging it back on the rack. "It's just not your color." They were walking through a department store. It was later that day and Catherine and Meg were going shopping, New York City style.

"I am." Catherine insisted, looking at her reflection in the mirror they passed. "I've never been this fat!"

"Your stomach as swelled about four inches in the past couple months – your pregnant – it's supposed to do that." Meg reminded her cousin. "For a woman that's four and a half months pregnant, you're slim. You need to be eating more – your eating for two, you know."

"I have been!" Catherine exclaimed.

"You have?" Meg looked Catherine over doubtfully. "You didn't eat much over lunch, not enough for one person, much less two."

Catherine sighed. "I just haven't felt all that hungry of late."

"You will." Meg assured Catherine. "Having any cravings?"

"Well, peanut butter always sounds good of late, and I know this is sick, but lately cottage cheese has sounded appealing too."

"Ugh!" Meg grimaced. "Curdled milk?"

"More or less, yes." Catherine laughed. "What did you crave when you were pregnant with Cameryn?"

"Salt and Vinegar potato chips." Meg said. "Can't stand them now. Oh, and broccoli with cheese. Can't stand that anymore either. So, are you nervous?"

"Nervous?" Catherine asked. "Yes, I am. But don't tell anyone – it's kind of embarrassing."

"Why should it be embarrassing?" Meg asked. "You're expecting your first child – and its Vincent's! What, er, do you think the baby will be like?"

Catherine sighed. "I don't know – that's probably half of the reason I'm so scared."

"Was Vincent very big of a baby?" Meg asked, concerned. "Your frame is rather medium sized and while your very strong, too big of a baby could-"

"I don't think he was very big at all." Catherine interrupted. "I heard Father talking about it once and he said three pounds, but since Vincent was so malnourished when he was found, he might have been bigger when he was actually born."

Meg held up an infant boy's outfit. "Think this'll fit the baby?"

"Maybe." Catherine said. "What makes you think it's going to be a boy?"

"A woman's intuition, I guess." Meg laughed. "What do you hope for, a boy or a girl?"

"A happy, healthy baby." Catherine sighed, picking up a baby rattle and rattling it. "When I was a girl, I knew exactly how many children I was going to have, if they were going to be a boy or a girl, and in what order they would be born." She laughed a bit self-consciously. "I'm afraid that gender is the least of my concerns now."

Meg wrapped a sympathetic arm around her cousin. "I know." She said quietly. "When I'm pregnant, those are my same thoughts." Meg had been married to Mike since high school graduation, and they had suffered eight miscarriages before Bailee's adoption, one after that, and yet two more after Cameryn's birth.

"So much could go wrong, you know?" Catherine said.

Meg nodded. "Yes, I know." She cleared her throat, trying to change the subject a bit. "So do you have everything you need for the baby?"

"Let's see," Catherine began ticking things off her fingers. "I got this baby rather cheaply, so no diapers, no clothes, no fancy toys, no bed or blanket, and there'd be no food either, except that this baby came with 'buy one baby, get its milk for free' deal."

Meg laughed at Catherine's humor. "Sounds like you've got a lot to shopping to do."

"Or a lot of thinking to do." Catherine said. "I have no idea what I need, where to get it, how much to pay for it, what size to get, or _anything _like that!"

"First things first," Meg said. "What do _you_ need for this pregnancy? Some maternity clothes, some bigger underclothes for when you get bigger, and plenty of relaxation. Let's not shop for the baby – let's shop for you instead!"

"I'm just really confused when it comes to the baby." Catherine admitted as they left the baby section. "What does Vincent expect from me as a mother?"

"I think every mother wonders that at one time or another." Meg said. "I think the best thing you can do it decide not to worry about it or talk to Vincent. I'm sure he doesn't expect too much of you – it seems that, if he could, he'd sit you up on a throne and bow to you all day, every day, not having to worry about laboring over childcare."

Catherine couldn't help but giggle. "Well, maybe he wouldn't _bow_ to me, but-"

"But he would if you asked him to." Meg laughed. "Maybe he's more the type to wash your feet."

Catherine gave Meg a play swat. "You hardly know the man and you're already judging his father and romantic tactics!"

"Tell me I'm wrong." Meg challenged, her eyes twinkling.

"You're not wrong." Catherine admitted. "Vincent would give me the world if possible and I…" her voice trailed.

"And you what?"

"And I _can_ give him the world, but he can't accept it." Catherine sighed. "Between both of my parents, they left a lot of money behind, and I don't make terribly much less than they did. Not to be showing off or anything" she added quickly.

"Of course not." Meg said. "Continue."

"If anyone deserves to see all of the great sites and cities, London, Paris, Israel, even Connecticut which is only a few hours away, it's Vincent." Catherine sighed. "And money is no object – we could fly to all of those place first-class and stay in the finest hotels, eat at the finest restaurants, and then some. But he can't go."

"Because of his appearance." Meg realized.

"Yes." Catherine nodded. "Just because of the way he looks – which he cannot help!" she shook her head mournfully. "_Oliver Twist, A Tale of Two Cities, _so many books describe London, and Vincent can only visit there in his dreams, never, ever for real. And while the imagination is a great thing, he's never really seen all of New York City, especially during the daytime – much less London, or Paris, Budapest, or any other great place."

"I'm sure knowing that you would give him all of those things is enough." Meg said. "You have a very generous heart."

"So I've heard." Catherine said, remembering the time Vincent told her that a generous heart cannot be taught, that it comes from the soul.

"But can't you and Vincent do _something_?" Meg asked. "What about that property you inherited from your parents in Connecticut? Can't you and Vincent go there? It's private property, and far away from the road, so no one will see him. You could drive down there – I suppose he can't drive. And you might want to tint the windows of your car, so no one can see inside. You guys could stay there for _weeks_ and no one would-"

"I tried before." Catherine interrupted. "We both tried. Thanks, Meg, but we already thought of it." She sighed. "If there was any way to let Vincent be able to see the lake, the canopy of the trees, the smell of pine," Catherine took a deep breath as if she could smell the pine in the department store. "I'd see that it could happen."

"Well, why didn't you go?" Meg asked.

"Father talked Vincent out of it, who talked me out of it." Catherine sighed. "It really isn't that practical of an idea, risking his life just for a sight."

"It's not just for a sight." Meg protested. "It's for a relationship. It'd be good for him, good for you! I still think both of you should go."

"And get stopped by the police somehow? No thanks." Catherine said.

"Turn on your taillights, buckle up, and don't go any faster than 50 MPH." Meg reminded Catherine.

"What if we get in a car wreck?" Catherine asked.

"Now you're searching for complications!" Meg complained. "It comes the 'so what' point, Catherine. The point to decide if you're willing to look past the risks for a dream. Catherine, you and Vincent seem to have that problem. All your dreams involve a bit of risk so you don't pursue them? That's just nonsense! Most dreams have risks – living life _means_ taking chances, Catherine, chances _worth_ taking."

"And how do you know if the chances are worth taking?" Catherine asked.

"What do you want most of all in this world?" Meg asked.

"What? Did we just change the subject or-"

"Just answer the question – what do you want most of all in this world?" Meg asked again.

"Vincent." Catherine answered in one word.

"Okay then." Meg said. "Now stop acting like his fraidy-cat little sister and _go for it_. So you want to make out with him, for example, are you going to let a couple 'maybes' scare you off, things that may not even happen?"

Catherine sighed. "You make it seem so simple, so easy, but its not."

"I just said a lot of things." Meg said, taking a sip of water. "But I never said easy. Haven't you ever heard of following your heart, Catherine?"

"I just don't know." Catherine said slowly. "What are you implying we do again?"

"Well, for starters, get married, share a chamber, and get some real kissing done." Meg said with a smile. "Let it evolve from there, and take the next step. Maybe the next step in Connecticut, maybe its not."

"Now you make _that_ sound simple." Catherine complained.

"Maybe because it relatively is." Meg said gently. "I'm not trying to urge you into something you don't want to do, but this sounds like something-"

"That I've been _dying _to do." Catherine finished. "I have. I'm just… nervous and unsure."

"About what?"

"Telling Vincent, the risks involved, telling Father, the rest of my future, Vincent's future, the entire community's future, our baby's future – heck, if one wrong person finds out about Vincent, it could change the _world's_ future."

"It takes a lot of concern." Meg agreed. "A lot of thinking over – together."

Catherine nodded, turning to look Meg in the face. "If this all messes up, I'm holding you personally responsible." She half-way joked.

"And if it turns out good, will I still be held responsible?" Meg couldn't help but ask.

"I'll think about it." Catherine said. "So in the meantime, what am I going to say to Vincent?"

"Start with the obvious." Meg said. "Say 'honey, can I talk with you for a minute?'"

"We don't talk like that." Catherine said abruptly.

"Like what?" Meg asked a bit startled from being interrupted.

"'Honey', 'dearest', 'beloved', 'my love'." Catherine explained. "We rarely use those terms, contrary to popular belief."

"Popular belief?" Meg asked. "Whatever. So you'll say, 'Vincent, can I talk to you for a minute? I've been talking to Meg and-'"

"I'd better leave you out of it." Catherine pretty much advised herself.

Meg sighed, beginning again. "'Vincent, can I talk to you for a minute? I've been thinking about life, how one only has one life to spend and-'"

"That won't work." Catherine said. "Vincent doesn't have very good comprehension of spending. Money doesn't exist Below."

Meg threw her hands up in the air. "I'm not telling you what to say word for word – that's your job! I was only trying to help."

Catherine shook her head. "Don't you feel special? Me choosing you out of everyone else I know to tell about the Tunnels?"

"A great honor, truly." Meg said, somewhat sarcastically. "But I am glad you told me." She added. "But what I don't understand is why you seem intent on letting all of the relatives know of your pregnancy, but then telling them that you don't want them to meet the baby. Why not just not tell anyone?"

"Because then I'd have to break contact with them one by one, throughout the years – I'm going to – its inevitable, especially since, one day, I plan on moving Below. I'd rather just break contact with them all at once."

"But doesn't it hurt?" Meg wanted to know. "All of your aunts, uncles, cousins, etc.?"

"A bit," Catherine admitted. "But I _have_ to – I'd do _anything_ for Vincent, and this is just one of those things that I have to do – it comes along in the package."

"And you told me because…" Meg said.

"Because I can't lose contact with you!" Catherine slung her arm around her cousin. "In the world Above, you're my best friend – and favorite relative!"

Meg sighed. "I still don't know what to believe. A world underground? A man-beast? No offense."

"None taken." Catherine replied. "Vincent's exterior can be deceiving – most would call him a beast. But as for Below, and for Vincent, it's all true – you saw it with your own eyes."

"It just seemed like some kind of crazy dream." Meg admitted. "I keep thinking any minute now that I'll wake up and find that your Vincent is really a stockbroker, who struggles to quit smoking, is your all-American looking type, and who is totally immersed into money."

"That's what you suspected, huh?" Catherine couldn't help but chuckle, knowing that all the men she had dated previously had fit into that category one way or another.

"Again, no offense, but yeah, that is what I thought." Meg said. "The facts just don't seem to add up to me."

"What facts?" Catherine picked up a shirt, looked it over and put it back on the rack.

"Well, Mr. Wells- Father founded Below, right?" Meg asked.

Catherine nodded. "Kind of, sort of. It was him, a man named John Pater, a woman named Grace was greatly responsible, as was Mary, and perhaps some other people."

"Grace as in Father's love interest, Vincent's brother's Mom?" Meg checked with her cousin.

Catherine again nodded. "Exactly."

"Okay, so Below has existed for how many years?" Meg asked.

Catherine started doing the math in her head. "Let's see… its 1989… Vincent is thirty-seven, so he was born in… 1952. Devin is a couple years older than Vincent, so we'll say he was born in 1950… so Below has probably existed since 1948, give or take a few years."

"How can something stay a secret for _that_ long? That is what I don't understand." Meg said. "Someone would have blown their cover, eventually."

"Literally?" Catherine couldn't help but crack the joke. "No, no one has blown up the streets of New  
York City; therefore, their cover is good."

"You know what I mean." Meg said. "Someone would have spilled the beans to the wrong person eventually, in forty plus years."

"You would think." Catherine agreed. "But the world Below is an important refuge to the people down there. Father depends on it, because there everyone is family – trustworthy, full of honor and integrity – they really love each other and would never intentionally hurt someone's feelings without a darn good reason behind it, a reason that will end up helping the person. Vincent couldn't exist without Below, you know that. He probably would have frozen to death in that dumpster or someone would have found him and taken him to a zoo or something." She shuddered at the thought.

"Tell me more about the people Below." Meg requested as they went out the door of the department store and began walking down the street.

"Well, you need to know about Paracelsus, the sooner the better." Catherine stated as they wove their way through the crowded sidewalk.

"Paracelsus?" Meg sounded confused. "Wasn't that some alchemist from the fifteenth century? What's he got to do with-"

"John Pater, the man who helped found Below." Catherine clarified. "He took on the name 'Paracelsus' after awhile. He wanted to make Below some kind of kingdom-type deal, for him to rule."

"But that takes away the freedom of Below in the first place!" Meg exclaimed.

Catherine nodded. "That is exactly why he was exiled from their community – the only member of the community to ever be exiled."

"Well, how is he important now?" Meg asked. "Why do I need to know about him?"

"Because he still may be alive." Catherine informed Meg. "He still lives under New York City, though far away from what we know as Below. Father has described him as a philosopher, a scientist, a magician. He's done many horrible things since his exile, especially of late. His most used tactic is to generally either kill Vincent, or get Vincent on his side, because Vincent is kind of a… all-powering warrior, if you know what I mean." She couldn't help but laugh at her description.

"I don't see what's so funny." Meg said. "If he's trying to kill Vincent then-"

"There haven't been any attempts in a long while." Catherine assured Meg. "And I have every faith in Vincent, that he will do the right thing."

Catherine sighed. "But I will admit," she said, "that Paracelsus does scare me – a lot. Whenever I think of what he is capable of, even though I know Vincent is capable of just as much, it's frightening."

"How come Vincent doesn't just kill him?" Meg asked. "All he's got to do is swipe him with his paw a couple times-"

"They are hands, not paws." Catherine interrupted. "Commonly made mistake – continue."

"All Vincent has to do is claw him up a bit and kill him – it'd be no big deal." Meg said.

"But two wrongs don't make a right." Catherine reminded Meg. "He'd essentially be murdering Paracelsus."

"But if Paracelsus is trying to kill Vincent, like you said, then-"

"It's complicated." Catherine said with a sigh. "Very complicated."

"Well, tell me about more people who live Below." Meg said.

"Hmm… Mouse has a pretty interesting story."

"With a name like 'Mouse' I should think so!" Meg laughed. "Tell me."

"Well, years ago, people Below had noticed things going missing. Not major things – just a bit of food here, a little metal or cloth there. They had pretty much blamed it all on being absent-minded, well, except for William, who was convinced there was a mouse in the kitchen, stealing food."

"One day," Catherine continued. "Vincent caught a little boy in the act of stealing something. A strange little boy that no one had ever seen before. He was probably about ten, but didn't talk much at all – he must have been through some major trauma. Anyways, 'Mouse' became his name, seeing is how he didn't tell anyone his real name, he had been quiet as a mouse for quite some time, and William thought it was a mouse stealing food. So, to this day, Mouse is his name."

"Did anyone ever find out his story? Why he went Below, what his real name is, any of his history, why he had trouble talking?"

Catherine shook her head. "Nope. And we're not all that curious. It's all behind him. When one comes Below, they get a new life, pretty much. They get to start all over, from scratch, and if anyone did that, I'm pretty sure it was Mouse."

"But you have to be the slightest bit curious." Meg said.

Catherine thought for a moment, and then shook her head. "You know what? I'm not. I'm really not all that curious at all."

"Well, you have already told me Kanin and Olivia's story." Meg said. "So who's next?"

"I don't know much about anyone's previous life." Catherine stated. "It's a private past that has, pretty much 'gone with the wind'. Did you meet the little girl named Maria?"

"With the never-been-cut brown hair, big brown eyes, and a happy smile?" Meg asked.

"That's the one." Catherine replied with a smile. "Well, her parents had both committed suicide when she was about eight – right in front of her. She went to go live with her uncle, who molested her many times before social services found out. She ran away one night, and fell asleep hiding in an alleyway, in the middle of the night. Vincent found her and took her Below, and the rest is history."

"How did she react to Vincent?" Meg asked.

"She didn't much." Catherine said. "She woke up and she was Below. I hear she was a little frightened of him, but she was frightened of all the other men as well."

"She seems to like Vincent a lot now."

"She does." Catherine agreed. "It's been three years since she came Below – she came when she was nine – and she trusts Vincent the most. I think it's because he found her, hasn't hurt her, and looks the least like a man out of all the men."

"She's a real sweetheart." Meg said.

"She is." Catherine agreed. "She is real easily emotionally worried though – the children we're doing a lesson on Romeo and Juliet, and Maria asked Vincent 'If Catherine dies, will you kill yourself?'"

"Oh, poor little girl." Meg sympathized.

"She's getting better." Catherine informed her cousin. "She's growing more trusting every day. She's healing."

"Do you think she'll get jealous over the baby?" Meg asked. "If she's as attached to Vincent as you say…"

"Oh my!" Catherine exclaimed. "I never even _thought_ of that!"

"Perhaps Vincent can talk to her when he gets back." Meg suggested.

"That's perfect." Catherine agreed. "I'll ask him. See, that's why we needed to get you involved – you think of things like that, things that should be taken care of, the sparse details."

"Well thanks, but it's important!" Meg said.

"Oh, I wish Vincent would come back tonight!" Catherine thought out loud.

"You miss him already, don't you?" Meg asked. "I know the feeling."

"Well, you don't have to worry about your husband's state when he gets back from any type of journey." Catherine pointed out. "You don't have to worry about his state of mind, and at the rate of carelessness Vincent has been going as, his physical state."

"I did notice that he had a lot of bandages." Meg said. "He was only wearing one boot – the other foot was absolutely covered in bandages. And his head had a bandage wrapped around it too."

"Not to mention he has broken ribs and a bandage on his finger." Catherine pointed out. "What happened to his finger? I have no idea."

"Is he usually this accident prone?" Meg asked.

Catherine shook her head. "Never. Only in the past few days." She paused before continuing. "He's been really hard on himself, on his nature and appearance. Father thinks it's a mixture between first-time father jitters, a hint of approaching madness, the fact that he's been extra-tired, thanks to my emotions, and any insecurities he has about himself are extra-strong right now, thanks to the baby. He's been working extra-hard to work off any angry, frustrated energy he's had, and has lacked a lot of self-respect in the physical area of late. He doesn't stop when he knows he needs to. As a result, he's broken all over."

"But lifting a steamer trunk?" Meg shook her head. "That's a two man job – and it'd still be heavy!"

"Vincent is strong." Catherine said. "It surprised me the first time I saw him lift one too."

"Seems that he's a pretty surprising guy." Meg commented.

"Mmm-hmm." Was Catherine's reply as they entered another store.

"Mmm-hmm?" Meg questioned. "That's all you have to say?"

"I was just thinking of the term 'guy'." Catherine said. "For some reason it just doesn't seem to fit Vincent all that much."

"'Guy'." Meg thought. "Your right – I hardly know him, but 'guy' just doesn't seem to fit him."

"I told Vincent you called him 'my special guy'." Catherine said.

Meg blushed a bit. "What'd he say?"

"I think he smiled, maybe he laughed." Catherine said. "I hear he used not to do either very much until recently."

"You make him smile or laugh." Meg said. "You make him happy. Doesn't that make you feel good?"

Catherine shrugged. "Oh, jeez! I miss him so much."

"He's only been gone for four hours." Meg said, looking at her watch. "See? It's only 2:00PM!"

"And he'll be gone forever!" Catherine moaned.

"Not forever." Meg reminded her cousin, who was being overly-dramatic. "today is Sunday, August 26th. He'll be back by Sunday, September 2nd – he practically promised."

"A week – it seems like forever." Catherine continued to miss him.

"You're in your second trimester, right?" Meg asked, to which Catherine nodded. "Good. That's when morning sickness seems to subside. Unfortunately, you're going to be overly emotionally dramatic for months still."

"The morning sickness has practically stopped." Catherine said. "Until this morning, I hadn't had it in a week. And as for being overly emotional, I don't think I am."

"For the woman feeling the emotions, it's hard to know." Meg informed her cousin. "I'm not trying to make you mad or anything, but you have to admit, it's true." She looked over the store's selection of jewelry.

"It is." Catherine admitted with a sigh. She looked over at Meg. "Do you miss Mike?"

"Right now?" Meg asked. When Catherine nodded, Meg continued. "A little, yes." She admitted. "When I spoke with him this morning, I didn't realize how much I missed him until I heard his voice – and then I just wanted to cry!"

"I think a break from him is good, though." She said. "He often goes on trips for work, and gets time away from me and the kids, which is nice. He was sweet enough to take time off for me; he knew I needed to get away for awhile. I love him, Bailee, and Cameryn more than anything, by all means, but a little vacation doesn't hurt – it usually helps."

"So Vincent taking this journey, this vacation, could help our relationship?"

Meg nodded. "Maybe. I hear that 'miles make hearts go fonder'."

Catherine wrinkled her brow. "I thought it was 'distance makes the heart grow fonder'."

Meg shrugged. "No matter what it is, it has the same meaning; time spent apart from each other will cause you two to love each other even more."

"If that's possible." Catherine said. "Sometimes I think I couldn't possibly love him more, and then he does something completely crazy, like get caught Above, or something totally unexpected, like the time he gave me this." She pulled her necklace out of her blouse, revealing the crystal Vincent had given to her.

"Whoa, what a rock!" the man at the jewelry desk exclaimed, obviously overhearing the last part of the conversation and seeing Catherine's crystal. "Your boyfriend gave you that, lady? Who is he, the king?"

"Why do you want to know?" Meg asked somewhat suspiciously.

"'Cause I want to know where he got it!" the employee said. "My wife has been wanting something like that gosh darn awfully bad, and working here at the jewelry desk, I should have thought that I'd have seen something like it before!"

"Yes, my boyfriend gave it to me." Catherine admitted, trying not to smile at the word 'boyfriend'. It just didn't seem to fit Vincent at all.

"Do you know where he got it?" the man asked next.

Catherine glanced nervously over at Meg before answering. "I'm-I'm not quite sure."

"Do you know how much it cost?" the man asked.

_Yes, it was bought with labor and love, _Catherine wanted to say, but she knew she couldn't do that; it would only encourage more questions.

"Do you know how much it cost?" the man repeated.

"No, no I don't." Catherine said. "Now, if you'll excuse me, we have to get going."

She took Meg's arm and as quickly as they could, they got out of the store. That man probably wasn't after anything, but just to be on the safe side, leaving was a good idea.

"He was kind of weird." Meg said. "I mean, 'gosh darn awfully bad'? Have you ever heard _that_ before?"

"There's a first time for everything." Catherine said with a laugh. "He was sincere, I'm sure. Some people are a little creepy, but that's just the way they are."

"How come people Below wear such strange clothes?" Meg brought up the world Below again.

"They aren't _strange_." Catherine defended Vincent's world. "It's just… homespun and whatever can be given from the world Above. More eighteenth century than what we're used to, but I happen to like it better than the styles now."

Meg glanced over Catherine's fashionable clothing. "Really?"

"Well, at least I like the men's clothing." Catherine relented. "You should just _see_ Vincent for Winterfest!"

"Winterfest?" Meg wrinkled her nose, signifying her confusion. "What's that?"

"It's a holiday," Catherine patiently explained. "Kind of like Christmas, only about twenty days before. It's like a big ball – a feast, dances, games. That's when they celebrate the Helpers, the existence of their world. Everyone dresses in their finest, and puts on their best behavior – it's _so_ much fun!"

"Wow," Meg said. "You've been?"

Catherine nodded. "Twice now. And every time we have so much fun! Of course, there was that one time that Paracelsus almost killed us all, but through the process of deduction, we figured it out before he could."

Meg raised her eyebrows. "Sounds like an interesting story."

"It is." Catherine stated. "It was my first Winterfest. Vincent looked so handsome, especially with his ruffed stock tie and-"

"The story?" Meg prodded before Catherine went off into some romantic world in the clouds – or below the streets.

"Oh. Well, we knew that Paracelsus was disguised as one of the helpers, and it could only be a certain three. We knew it couldn't be Dr. Peter because-"

"Dr. Peter?" Meg interrupted. "_Our_ Dr. Peter knows of Below?"

Catherine nodded. "Practically from day one."

"So he knew both you _and_ Vincent as babies?"

Catherine nodded, continuing with her story. "We knew it couldn't be Dr. Peter because he knew how he and I first met – Paracelsus wouldn't have known that. And we knew it couldn't be this other man for other reasons, so naturally, that only left one person to be Paracelsus in disguise."

Meg shook her head. "It sounds like a fairy tale. Unknown worlds, crystals, a 'Beauty and the Beast' type romance, no offense, and when not lovers, super-sleuths?" she paused for breath. "It just doesn't seem possible."

"But it's true." Catherine insisted.  
"I don't doubt you." Meg said. "I've seen it myself, but it just doesn't seem… real. I mean, it sounds just about as real as Alice seeing a rabbit in a waistcoat and pocket watch! It's almost as if you were telling me of some… magical world – and doing a darn good job of it."

"I know." Catherine sighed. "Sometimes I'll lay awake nights, thinking about all that's been given to me, as a result from the mugging." She chuckled. "I couldn't thank those muggers enough."

Meg gave a half-smile. "So sometimes you don't believe it either?"

Catherine nodded. "I'll start to think I had a dream, or maybe I'm delusional. So I'll go to my basement and check – the Tunnels entrance is still there. Or I'll finally decide that it was a dream, so I'll roll over and go to sleep, and then Vincent will tap on my door."

"How does he get into the apartment building with no one seeing?" Meg asked.

"He doesn't." Was Catherine's reply. "He taps on my French doors. He climbs up the trellis and climbs up onto the balcony."

Meg gasped. "The entire eighteen stories? Isn't that dangerous?"

Catherine nodded. "I've finally managed to talk him out of it for the most part, I think, for the duration of the pregnancy. The last thing I need is for him to have a broken back while I'm in labor – and certainly he doesn't want the baby to grow up with a daddy locked in a zoo somewhere." She shuddered at the thought.

"How often does, or did he visit your balcony?" Meg asked curiously.

Catherine shrugged. "Sometimes, every night. Other times, months apart. It just depends, but he does it pretty regularly, until recently, of course. I think he's pretty much stopped himself from climbing up the lattice though – with a broken foot and a hole in his head, it wouldn't be easy."

"So, Catherine, what happens if…" Meg's voice trailed. "Do you mind all of these questions?"

"I'll tell you if I do." Catherine said. "Go on."

"What happens if the madness _does_ come?" Meg blurted out. "What will he be like?"

"Ever seen a rabid raccoon?" Catherine asked.

"What?" Meg asked, not understanding where the conversation was going.

"Have you ever seen a rabid raccoon?" Catherine repeated.

"No." Meg said. "I've heard about them though, that they attack for no reason, unexpectedly, that they foam at the mouths, carry disease, and they can _kill_ people with no problem, whether it's from an attack or biting them."

Catherine nodded. "Well, the sickness doesn't get transferred through a bite, I don't think, and I don't think Vincent would be carrying a disease, but you get the picture; completely out of control, out on pure instinct." She grimaced as soon as she said that, remembering her and Vincent's previous conversation about what made an animal an animal – acting on instinct.

"So basically its rabies or hydrophobia?" Meg didn't understand.

"In a twisted way, yes." Catherine tried to explain. "But he's gotten better the two times he's had it."

"Well, remember that the bad things always happen the third time." Meg reminded Catherine of an old superstition, just in case.

"And 'third time is a charm'." Catherine retorted. "It doesn't mean anything."

"Sorry." Meg mumbled. "I just don't want you to be… disappointed if Vincent doesn't get back to 'normal'."

"He will." Catherine said confidently. "You just don't know him well enough yet to know that. You haven't seen the sickness yet. I think he'll be fine."

"You do?" Meg asked. "You aren't worried?"

"I'm scared to death!" Catherine turned to face Meg. "I'm pregnant with his child, and he may be going mad – I've exceeded 'worried'. But I know him and I have to have faith that he'll come back, because if I don't…"

"You're the one that will go mad." Meg said, remembering what it was like when her Dad was in the army.

"Yes." Catherine sighed. "Exactly. And if Vincent is possibly about to get the sickness again, Vincent's idea of going away is a good one – maybe it can help him get better faster, maybe it will prevent it, and if worse comes to worse, none of us have to see it happen. It's like…" she searched for what to say. "A demon-possessed person. Like a demon comes into his body. He's not there, but sometimes you can see it in his eyes – he's terrified."

Meg put her arm around Catherine. "But you're all right?"

Catherine nodded. "Y-Yes, I think so. It's just… hard sometimes."

"It must be." Meg agreed. "Look, its 3:00. Maybe all of this shopping is too hard on you right now? Do you want to go home?"

Catherine shook her head. "I don't want to ruin your trip."

Meg's merry laughter rang through the streets. "I've been to New York City before, Catherine." She reminded her cousin. "I came here to make sure you were okay."

"What?" Catherine couldn't believe her ears. "You mean you could care less about doing stuff in New York?"

"Well, it sounds fun." Meg admitted. "But do you know what I think sounds more fun? Taking care of my younger cousin during her pregnancy."

Catherine shook her head. "You remind me of someone."

"Who?" Meg asked as they left the store.

"I don't know. A heroine in a book, maybe." Catherine said. "I'll have to ask Vincent – maybe he'll know the name right off."

"He enjoys reading, right?" Meg asked.

"One of his top ten hobbies." Was Catherine's answer. "Probably his number one hobby until a couple years ago."

"When he met you." Meg said.

Catherine nodded. "He read me _Great Expectations_ while I had my 'stay' Below, before I ever saw him or even really knew where I was."

"What happened when you saw him?" Meg asked curiously.

"Well, lets just say that Vincent had reason to fear your arrival if your anything like me." Catherine admitted. "I-I-I threw a piece of glass at him."

"You _what_?" Meg exclaimed.

"Well, he had left the room to get me some tea or something, so I took off the bandage that was covering my face – and my eyes. He came up behind me quietly – he's really good at that – and I saw him through the broken piece of mirror I was looking at and I threw it at him, in my fear."

"You actually hit him with glass?" Meg sounded dumbfounded. "That does _not_ sound like you, Cathy."

"And neither does switching over from the lawyer's office to the DA's." Catherine reminded her cousin. "Or being so secretive about a man in my life. Or taking self-defense classes. Or-"

"I get the picture." Meg stopped her with a laugh, remembering how she had constantly accused Catherine of not being herself in the above circumstances. "At least now I see your reasons a lot more clearly."

"At least you do." Catherine agreed. She suddenly gasped.

"What is it?" Meg asked, concerned.

"I-I think the baby just moved!" Catherine exclaimed, putting her hand on her stomach.

"Really?" Meg asked.

"There it goes again!" Catherine said. "Here, feel." She put Meg's hand on her stomach.

"I feel it!" Meg said, smiling happily at her cousin. "Has the baby kicked before?"

"No!" Catherine said joyously. "Should this be something we should tell Father about?"

"There's no rush to." Meg said. "Nothing is the matter. Just let him know the next time- wait, Father is your doctor?"

"Father and Dr. Peter, yes." Catherine said. She paused before continuing, "If anything _was_ to be wrong- different about the baby," she caught herself. "If something were to be _different_ about the baby, a doctor would catch it." Catherine said. "And that would not only jeopardize me and the baby's safety, but also Vincent's and essentially, the entire Tunnel community's safety."

Meg nodded. "You, Vincent and Vincent's father have thought out every single detail."

"We have to." Catherine answered. "If the slightest thing goes wrong, if we make the slightest mistake, if we're the least bit careless, lives could be at stake. People's lives."

"What would happen if Below was discovered?" Meg asked curiously. "What would happen to all of the people?"

"The adults would be put in jail, put in mental asylums, or put out on the streets, I'm sure." Catherine said decidedly, after all of her experience with working with the law. "Especially Father, since he's 'in charge'. The children," she shook her head sadly. "Would be placed in an orphanage, or foster care. And Vincent… well, you get the idea. Some people could adapt to that sort of life, but others could not."

"Like who?"

"Well, Father would be miserable to the end of his days." Catherine thought, a melancholy feeling setting in her stomach. "And feeling guilty for anything that went wrong. Vincent could _never, ever_ adapt to a cage – he'd… he'd die, I'm sure of it, in a matter of days or weeks. Mouse has been caught Above before and had a horrible time, because of his name, him not knowing any details of our world, his not being able to say where he lives or anything about his life. And under the harsh demands and questions, I don't think he could say anything. Speech is definitely not his strong point. A mind like Einstein's and Edison's – and similar social disabilities. He just could not handle it – could barely say anything he was so scared and nervous."

"Like a child." Meg said softly. "It's kind of funny, but it seems like many people Below are childlike, not just Mouse. Nearly everyone I've met, save Father, Mary, and the ones who have lived Above before, have this completely innocent childlike quality about them. Everyone who grew up Below has that quality."

"Well, not _everyone_." Catherine groaned. "Devin couldn't exactly be called 'innocent'."

"Vincent's brother?" Meg asked. "What'd he do, kill someone?"

"Not yet, and if he did, it would be on accident, with good intentions, I'm sure." Catherine laughed. "He's got this _mischievous _childlike quality about him."

"Well, they all have that quality about them too." Meg reasoned. "I don't know Mouse, Pascal, Lincoln, Thomas, or Jamie all too well, but 'mischievous' seems like it could easily be their middle names."

"'Mischievous' and 'innocent' are practically opposites." Catherine stated. "But I do see what you mean – that description seems to fit a lot of them. And they don't have much to worry about, or to be guilty about. At heart, they are all children. It's beautiful, knowing that worries and guilt aren't common down there. No one is childlike as in stupid, but childlike as in _innocent_. And it's not considered such a bad thing, such as it is up here."

"I barely spoke with Vincent." Meg said as Catherine hailed a cab. "Is he innocent, or mischievous, in some sort of childlike way?"

Catherine paused. "Innocent? He should feel that way because, essentially, he is." She sighed. "What that man has done wrong in his life has got me." She looked over at Meg. "I mean, of course he did the small things when he was little, like cause arguments, lie, and pinch, but has he actually done something to make him _not innocent_ – no."

"A sin is a sin, but I see what you're saying." Meg said. "Kind of like how Bailee and Cameryn have done wrong, sure, but they shouldn't have to go to hell for it, or live in hell on earth."

"Exactly." Catherine said. "Vincent has killed people, to save my life, but even that was done in a form of… innocence – and self-defense really, saving my life. Vincent has defied Father a time or two, sure, or accepted a gift from Mouse, even though he knew the gift was stolen from Above. But all were done in that same innocence we've _been_ discussing. He's not perfect, by any means, but he can still be described as 'innocent' Even what happened between us, that caused this baby, was done when he 'wasn't home' so to speak, so it's not really his fault at all."

Meg nodded. "I see what you're saying. So he feels guilty about this, is what your saying?"

"To a degree, yes." Catherine said. "I think he knows that its really not his fault for the baby's conception, that its more my fault and Father's fault by a long shot, and I think he realizes that the killings had to be done, but I think he still feels a bit of guilt, especially about the baby."

"Well, if the baby is… deformed, won't it kind of be his fault? I mean, with his genes and whatnot." Meg asked.

"Not exactly his _fault_." Catherine said. "But he'd definitely feel completely responsible." She sighed. "I love him just the way he is – if he were any different, I wouldn't want him. But he doesn't seem to realize that, especially lately. Since he's found out about the baby, it seems like he's beating himself down over his looks and other differences more."

"Well, it is a lot to deal with." Meg pointed out. "You know how some people say that 'their baby is a result of too much beer' of something, practically stating the baby was unwanted?"

Catherine nodded. "Yes. That's horrible."

"Well, your baby was 'unwanted', more or less." Meg said. "For him, it was like being drunk. No conscience, no little voice telling him right or wrong, any reason or practicality gone out the window, correct?"

Catherine nodded. "I see."

"He certainly doesn't feel ready to be a father – especially since he never planned on being on in the first place. He's worried sick about you, naturally. He's worried sick about the baby. And he's so angry at himself for not only actually 'making-out' with you and having no memory about it, but also because he hurt you in the process. Not only physically, but probably emotionally as well."

"Wow." Catherine said. "Your not a psychiatrist or physiologist in your spare time, are you?" she asked jokingly as they stepped into the back seat of the cab.

"No." Meg said, pausing while Catherine gave the cabbie the address of their destination. "But I am putting myself in his shoes. Imagine how he feels about all this?"

Catherine nodded. "Completely horrible, I imagine. Maybe the sickness isn't coming – maybe he just needs some time to sort out his thoughts."

"Hey, ladies?" the cabbie began. "If ya don't want me to hear yer conversation, I recommend that ya save it for wherever you're going."

"Thank you." Catherine said. She turned back to Meg, being more careful with what she said. "I never quite thought about it the way you put it. Maybe all he needs is a hug and some reassurance that it's not his fault."

"Maybe." Meg agreed. "But he already left for his journey."

Catherine shrugged. "The journey can't hurt, only help. Besides, if the sickness were coming, I think he'd know by now. And he wouldn't worry us into frenzy over nothing." She sighed. "I just hope he's back – in his right mind – before you have to leave."

"When is the baby due?" Meg asked.

"December-ish." Catherine replied. "Why?"

"Because I want to be here for the birthing." Meg said. "I had Cameryn at home, you know. Maybe I'll be able to help."

Catherine sighed. "All hands on deck. I'll need all the help I can get." She shook her head. "So I guess it's been made obvious that I'm… not having the baby at the hospital?" she chose her words carefully as not to make the cabbie more curious than he probably already was.

"Well, once you made me realize why your choice of doctors was the way it was, the place of having the baby seemed pretty obvious." Meg said.

Catherine sighed again. "Does it hurt?"

"To have a baby? I should say it does!" Meg laughed.

"No! I mean, I _know_ it hurts, but at home – does it hurt worse than it does at the hospital?" Catherine asked. "I heard it does."

"Still scared to death of pain, eh?" Meg laughed. "At the hospital they use all of these painkillers and drugs, but I doubt you'll have them. If I were you, I'd brace yourself for some pretty… unimaginable stuff."

"Unimaginable?" Catherine shook her head. "I think 'unimaginable' as reached its limits already."


	18. Chapter 18

18

**A/N: OK, my writing urge has come back, writers block almost faded. This chapter was written in a hue of writers block (about three weeks ago), so it might not live up to what you want, but it gets better, I can assure you. I'm really excited about finishing up this story! Also, does anyone think I should change the rating to M?**

**Chapter Eighteen:**

_Catherine is curious, sympathetic, and afraid. _Vincent realized as he trudged through the dark with only a single lantern to light his way. _Meg is with her – they are in a taxi or something like that._

_You need to quit focusing on your bond! _Vincent admonished himself. _It takes away the good this journey is suppose to bring – the isolation, the aloneness. With the bond, Catherine always feels nearby – and you can't feel that way!_

It was hours later, probably nearing six o'clock in the evening. Vincent had been gone from the Tunnel community for hours, and had gone countless miles. His feet were sore from walking – especially his right foot, which was the broken one. Throbbing in intense pain was more like it.

He took a deep breath, trying to ease the pain of his foot. But it didn't help, because whenever he breathed, his ribs hurt like crazy.

_How could you have been so careless, so self-destructive? _Vincent asked himself. _Hurting yourself only makes this journey harder, not easier. With a broken foot, gash in the head, sore fingertip, broken ribs and then some, this journey is probably going to be very difficult._

He leaned against a stone wall, to give him time to rest and catch his breath. He needed to rest his foot, but he didn't want to stop, not until later that night.

_I'll stop the next time I see a place that would be a good place to make a fire, _Vincent thought decidedly. He looked around him. The tunnel he was walking through had a low roof, and wasn't very wide. Vincent shook his head, knowing that this would not be a good place to make camp. If he did, he'd probably end up suffocating himself with the smoke.

_Keep going¸ _Vincent told himself. He pulled away from the wall with a grunt, trying to ignore the shooting pain that it caused in his chest. He then continued forward, with intentions of not seeing the spot again for quite some time.

_This is insane, _Vincent told himself. _Leaving all broken apart, because I _**might**_ be getting the sickness. I'll worry Father half to pieces the entire time I'm gone, and Catherine can't afford to have any extra worries or strain. It would be dangerous to the baby, and to her._

_I just need time to think. I need to think about what I'm facing, what Catherine will be facing, what the rest of the community will be facing, and what the baby will be facing._

_Catherine is frightened. She tries to hide it, but I can still feel it. She's frightened because she doesn't know what the baby will be like. She doesn't know whether it will be human or not, whether it will look like her or not. We have no idea what genes I carry that happened to not affect me, so the baby could have traits that are… unexplored, so to speak. It will be just like when I came to the Tunnels; Father had no idea what to expect day to day. How that Helper, Anna, knew I was a human, and how Father, Mary and the others knew it is beyond me. How did they know I was human? They had absolutely no idea what to expect, so each moment was a gift, and every single thing that they know about me was a result of watching and waiting. And it's going to be that way with the baby – a rough, watchful, and sometimes frightening journey, I am sure._

_Father is still, and will always be, Father. He will never change. Yes, he is concerned over the baby, but he seems especially concerned for Catherine and me. Concerned for Catherine because we don't know _what_ to expect. What Paracelsus said was true; one cannot _possibly_ claw their way out of the womb. But will the baby somehow harm Catherine in another way? How _did_ I end up in that dumpster? There is absolutely no way of knowing what could happen to her or the baby! And he is concerned for me because he is my father, and he is worried how I will take things. He knows me well, perhaps almost as well as I know myself. He knows what I am capable of, what I am liable to think, before events even come to pass. He has faith in me, he trusts me to make the right decisions, but he is worried over me still. And he is right to. With the way I have been acting, and thinking of late, he has every right._

_I still cannot believe that Catherine could _possibly _be pregnant! Thinking back, the earliest thing I remember before the sickness… it is all sort of a haze. It is like naming any in particular date and trying to remember what you did on that day. You cannot possibly remember if it was a day like any other day, completely uneventful, if enough time has gone by. I remember perfectly well my life before the sickness, nothing forgotten until right up to the last few days before it really kicked in, before anyone realized._

_What did I say to her? What did I do to her?_ His mind spun with thoughts. _What did I say? From the way Catherine has spoken of it, it didn't sound pleasant. It sounds like I almost threatened her, that I forced her. Perhaps I did, only she doesn't want to hurt my feelings. No. I know her heart. She would not lie to me over something like this, and if I had forced her in any sort of way, she would be afraid of me now, wouldn't she? Yet I never sense any fear, only love._

_That is what I don't understand!_ He thought, exasperated. _She could have _anyone_! Anyone at all! Anyone would want her! Someone would be crazy _not_ to want her. She's beautiful, strong, courageous, hard-working, loving, spirited, optimistic and self-sacrificing – and more, every good quality rolled into one woman. She's perfect, every man's dream. She could have _anyone_ she wanted! She could have a king, a prince, a millionaire, a famous movie star or athlete, or a rich politician, and yet, she wants _me_? Me, what with fur, fangs, claws, and a dark… unknown nature? Why? Why? Why me? Why?_

He had known Catherine for several years and still failed to comprehend that. Why did she want him? Why? Him, out of all the men in the world? Why him? Why? When she could have any man that she wanted to have? With all of her beauty and charm, she could have anyone. Anyone!

_Does she feel sorry for me? _He wondered. _Does she think she's going to get something from me?_

_No! No, that is not it at all! _He scolded himself, ashamed of his thoughts. _She doesn't feel that way at all, only love and affection. But how? Why? Romantic love and affection – for me! It is impossible – how could one love me like that?_

He remembered a story he read when he was a child. A story similar to what he and Catherine faced now, it seemed. It was a story of a young woman, a beautiful young woman, who loved her family, flowers, books, and well, she loved _life_. She saw no value in material possessions, just love. At one point of the story, her father was captured by a beast. A beast that was tall, covered with fur, had fangs and claws. She traded places with her father, so that he could be set free and she, forever the beast's prisoner. Slowly, but surely, they fell in love and the moment she kissed him, he turned into a man. They got married and lived happily ever after, of course.

_If only was the case. _Vincent thought with a sigh, which hurt his ribs of course. _If only I was to come home from the journey not a beast, but a man. If only I was to come out of this madness and be transformed. If only, there was an hourglass that, once the sand ran out, I would be a man. If only Narcissa, with all of her magic, could turn me into a human. If only, if only. Father would scold be ever so fiercely if he knew that I was having these thoughts, and so would Catherine. They want me to just accept me for me, but they do not understand. They cannot understand. It is hard to accept yourself when you are different… far different than anyone else in the world, in the history of the world. It is hard to accept yourself when every time you meet someone new, they scream, cry out, or through something at you. It is hard to accept yourself when you cannot see the sun, cannot watch the children flying their kites in the park, when you cannot breathe the fresh air or wriggle your toes in the green glass. It is hard to accept yourself when you are sitting in the sewer, listening to the faint sounds of an orchestra, when you know that you will never see them play. It is hard to accept yourself when you cannot take your love to the country for the weekend, or even out for a simple taste of ice cream. It is hard to accept yourself when you look in the mirror and see fur instead on regular skin, fangs instead of teeth, and claws instead of fingernails. It is hard to accept yourself when others go Above and play ball, leaving you to sit home alone all by yourself, doing nothing. It is hard to accept yourself when people treat you different, look at you different, speak to you different. It is hard to accept yourself when you cannot even attempt to give a woman the affection she wants, because you hurt her. It is hard to accept yourself when you catch yourself growling with anger, or purring with pleasure. It is hard to accept yourself when you find yourself acting more like an animal than acting like a human, naturally. It is hard to accept yourself when you are in constant fear of imprisonment, of a cage. It is hard to accept yourself when you know you are responsible for many deaths. It is hard to accept yourself when you know you're responsible for much other grief and pain. It is hard to accept yourself when you find yourself tearing things apart, thrashing around in anger, unlike people do. It is hard to accept yourself when your father tells you to write instead of hitting, as some sort of therapy. It is hard to accept yourself when you use someone's silverware, and find yourself gripping it so tightly that you leave claw marks in it. It is hard to accept yourself when you have to be careful when you sit down, otherwise you might break whatever you are sitting on. It is hard to accept yourself when you roar instead of yell. It is hard to accept yourself when all of your friends move on and leave you behind. It is hard to accept yourself when others go to colleges and universities, while you can do nothing more than sit at home. It is hard to accept yourself when your friends announce their engagements, while you are left to only imagine. It is hard to accept yourself when your friends introduce you to their children, to only make the children scream in fear. It is hard to accept yourself when you can only go out on Halloween, so no one will kill you. It is hard to accept yourself when people tell you on Halloween that you have the ugliest costume ever. It is hard to accept yourself when you have to have your father cut your fingernails – or claws instead of being able to do it yourself. It is hard to accept yourself when you still depend on your father for practically everything. It is hard to accept yourself when the children's favorite story is one about you, being found in a dumpster. It is hard to accept yourself when your love must give up her family, friends, and more, in order to even be halfway with you. It is hard to accept yourself when you are told that you clawed your way out of your mother's womb. It is hard to accept yourself when you know you were unwanted by whoever abandoned you. It is hard to accept yourself when the only person who treats you normal from the beginning is a man with a tortured mind and soul, who is also covered with tumors and scars. It is hard to accept yourself when your older brother constantly calls you a cat or a caveman. It is hard to accept yourself when children ask you questions innocently, all about the way you look. It is hard to accept yourself when you can't remember the conception of your child. It is hard to accept yourself when you know whatever physical trials your child is faced with, it is because of you. It is hard to accept yourself when you know that people have to keep a watchful eye on you, in order to make sure you don't go crazy. It is hard to accept yourself when you are different, plain and simple._

Vincent knew a lot of his excuses were childish or hardly a big deal, like the one about how his older brother used to call him a cat or caveman. But it had hurt all those years ago, and still left a tiny bit of pain in Vincent's gut, to know that it was possibly true, that he was different. And all of those hurts, large and small, childish or reasonable, added up to one giant mess, a mess that felt like his insides were in a knot, all tangled up. A mess that hurt so bad that it almost felt like a physical hurt.

_Perhaps that is it! _Vincent stopped dead in his tracks. _Perhaps that is where the madness is coming from! I have so much trouble accepting and looking past things that it drives me crazy – literally. Maybe it's all the little details that worry me into frenzy! The madness seems to occur after some sort of major dilemma or issue; becoming an adolescent and hurting Lisa, while my friends moved on hurt so bad, quietly taunted me enough, until the sickness came. I met Catherine, was faced with horrible temptations and regretful feelings of whom I am, what I am, and other struggles until the sickness came again. And then, I find out about Catherine's pregnancy and have all of these other pressures and regrets thrown on me, that I get the sickness once again! And once I 'lose my mind', and have all of these problems off of my mind for awhile, then the sickness goes away for a time. That's it! When people say 'all of this pressure is driving me crazy' or 'much more of this and I'll go crazy' or 'it hurts me like crazy' they aren't literally meaning crazy as in going insane, going mad, losing your mind. But in my case, it's literal!_

_That's so easy! _Vincent realized, beginning again to walk. _I have this inner battle with myself, the struggle to feel confident and proud and the frame of mind that thinks I should feel low, like an animal, and me ashamed. When I start to constantly struggle with that, back and forth, I get the sickness! It seems to be some natural way to relieve my problems – I go mad for awhile, give my mind a chance to forget my problems and then get well again – until the next time all my thoughts run wild, until the next time I start arguing back and forth with myself._

_And going off all by my lonesome doesn't prevent or cure the sickness, _Vincent realized. _Because it goes away in a matter of days or weeks anyway. But going off alone prevents me from _hurting_ anyone when I'm not in the right state of mind. Somehow, in my madness, I must know that._

He once again stopped, finding himself in a natural-made chamber, a very large chamber, with all sorts of tunnels leading out of it. The ceiling was very high up, and Vincent could hear with his keen hearing water trickling nearby. It was the perfect place to make camp.

_So what are my problems exactly right now? _Vincent asked himself, carefully kneeling down on the ground, not wanting to hurt or bruise himself up more than he already was. _I was fine until Catherine told me of the baby. And after that, I started feeling… inadequate, less than human, like an animal, because of how the baby was conceived. I started feeling that way also because I can't see myself as a parent, because I'm honestly not all that ready to be one. I start feeling not good enough for Catherine, that she should have someone better. And all of this pressure now, knowing that she's about to lose contact with her entire family, save Meg, and then having to know ahead of time that I'm going to meet someone new. It never does me good to know ahead of time – it just drives me crazy – literally._

_So how do I go about fixing this? _He starting to light a fire, using the fire from his lantern as a source. _How do I avoid going mad yet once again? By sorting out my thoughts, or keeping my mind blank. Yes, I should do both. I should light this fire, eat something, get something to drink, tend to any of my wounds that need tending to, and then go to sleep with my mind blank. When I wake up in the morning, I can start sorting out my thoughts. But right now when I'm so confused – it will just drive me closer to the madness. I need some rest, some sleep, to refresh my mind. And tomorrow… I won't plan tomorrow. It will just complicate things. Tomorrow, I will plan tomorrow._

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"And so after that?" Catherine asked.

"He started getting really confusing. Something about a monkey, spit, and kilometers." Meg finished her story.

"What?" Catherine busted out laughing.

"That's what I said." Meg joined in with her cousin's laughter as Catherine unlocked her apartment door. It was nearly midnight and they were just getting home from the day full of sightseeing, shopping, talking, gossiping, and of course, laughing.

"I don't understand how two brothers could be so very different." Catherine said of Mike's brother.

Meg shrugged. "They are different people. Two brothers being different from each other is one thing you should know a lot about; take Vincent and his brother for example. Do they look like? Do they sound alike? Do they act alike?"

Catherine shook her head. "No, they don't. But they aren't exactly brothers, not biologically."

"But brothers just the same." Meg finished. "Is Mr. Wells _really _your father? No, but you call him Father. Heck, is he Vincent's father? No, but he calls him that. It's so close that it doesn't really matter."

"I wish you would just call Father 'Father'." Catherine said, while stepping into the apartment and holding the door open for Meg. "Everyone calls him that."

"But he's not my father." Meg said, sliding her purse off her shoulder and onto the couch.

"Neither is he mine." Catherine reminded Meg.

Meg shook her head, laughing merrily. "Well, I wouldn't say that."

"What do you mean?" Catherine asked suspiciously.

"Well, you know what it's like; when two people get married, they become one – the Bible says so. The parents of the bride or groom say they've gained another child, and the bride, for example, starts calling the groom's parents 'Mom' and 'Dad'…"

"Well, Vincent and I am not bride and groom." Catherine pointed out.

"Well, your way passed boyfriend and girlfriend aren't you?"

"We were never that to begin with." Catherine huffed.

"Just the same, you are so close to Vincent and his family; you're like his wife, practically, with more than just a mere right to call him by 'Father'." Meg said.

"Maybe your right." Catherine sighed, plopping down on the couch.

"How do you feel?" Meg asked her cousin.

"Pregnant, I suppose." Catherine said, putting her hand over her swollen belly. "How am I supposed to feel?"

"Pregnant." Meg verified. "So," she said, sitting on the couch next to her cousin. "Between all of the worry and wonder, are you excited about the baby?"

Catherine shrugged. "I've spent so much time worrying about Vincent and the baby, and wondering about Vincent and the baby, that I hardly have had time to get excited." Catherine said. "I suppose I'm excited – I'm four months pregnant and the fact that I'm pregnant hasn't really even registered yet."

"I doubt it will for awhile." Meg said. "I remember when we first got Bailee, I was like 'I can believe I'm a mother' and it wasn't until Cameryn was a year old that it really sunk in."

"So are you saying I've got a long way to go?" Catherine asked with a giggle.

"No." Meg shook her head. "I'm saying you have a long, long, long way to go."

The two women laughed together. "Ah, how long did it take Mike to realize 'wait, I'm a father'?" Catherine asked. "How long did it take to really sink in?"

Meg thought for a moment before she shrugged. "I don't know, but I think it sunk in before my being a mother sunk in. He's just the type."

Catherine sighed. "I wonder how long it will take Vincent to get used to the idea."

"Well, I can't speak for nobody but myself." Meg began. "But I've planned on having a family ever since I was a little girl. When I got married to Mike, I was eighteen and he was twenty, and we had both agreed that we wanted a large family, so getting used to the ideas of being parents was… somewhat easier for us, I think. But Vincent, has he _ever_ planned on having children?"

Catherine thoughts raced. _Of course not!_ Catherine realized. _Children are yet another one of those things that he wanted, but knew he couldn't have. It was just like walking around Central Park in broad daylight – impossible. No wonder he seems to let it register so slowly, to be so unsure. He didn't know we had sex, I understood that, but children were one of those things he never even voiced a hope for, because he was sure, probably from a very young age, that he couldn't have them!_

"No." Catherine said suddenly. "I don't think he ever thought he'd have children."

Meg sighed. "Sounds like he's gone through a lot of pain in his life, and I'm not talking physical pain."

Catherine nodded. "All physical, emotional, mental, spiritual and more ways you could possibly go through pain." She said. "His life is kind of rough."

"It must have been _awful_ until he met you." Meg said. "I don't know him all that well, but you seem to be the light of his life – I imagine for him, a life without you would be empty."

Catherine shrugged. "Well, he didn't know what he was missing. Still doesn't, I'm afraid."

"What do you mean?" Meg wanted to know.

"Well, he doesn't know what its like to take a hot shower, or go to a party and meet people. He doesn't know what its like to attend a Broadway musical, or to walk down a busy street on a cold winter morning. He doesn't know what its like to bathe in the sun, to make snow angels in the snow, to cut down a Christmas tree, to let your feet sink in the sand at the beach. So many of life's experiences he has to miss!"

"All because of the world's prejudice." Meg said.

"Stupidness is more like it." Catherine huffed.

"Let's not get accusing." Meg warned her emotional cousin. "You threw glass at him, remember? And I must has stared at him for ten minutes!" she blushed, thinking about how that made Vincent feel. "Let's not call anyone stupid."

Catherine pulled herself off the couch and stretched. "Oh, my feet are killing me!"

"Take a bath instead of a shower tomorrow." Meg advised. "It's more relaxing and will give you time off your feet. And prop them up tonight for a few minutes – it'll feel great and reduce the swelling."

"Seems like your talking from experience." Catherine said with a hint of a smile.

"I am, aren't I?" Meg laughed. "Look, you're worn out and have had a rough day. You take the bed – I'll sleep on the couch."

"No!" Catherine protested. "You're the guest!"

"And you're pregnant." Meg reminded her cousin. "In very delicate condition. Let the guest choose – I want the couch."

"Are you sure?" Catherine asked doubtfully.

Meg nodded. "Of course. Half of the time, I do sleep on the couch at home, like when one of the kids has a fever or when Mike's snoring gets too loud."

Catherine laughed. "Goodnight then, Meg."

"Goodnight." Meg said, giving her cousin a careful hug. "Sweet dreams."

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

Vincent massaged his temples with his palms. How long had he slept? Longer than he had in a long while, he was sure. Probably more then ten hours.

_Where is that water? _Vincent wondered, hearing the water trickling again. Slowly he stood up. Not moving for so many hours on the hard ground had left his muscles more stiff and sore than they already were.

He shook his head, trying to clear it up some. He listened intently for the water and then began to follow the sound, using his newly-lighted lantern to guide his way.

Suddenly Vincent stumbled over something, but thankfully didn't lose his footing – or the light in his lantern. Quickly he turned to see what he had stumbled over – it was an old campsite, apparently. There were old burnt up logs and ashes.

Vincent looked up, seeing a little waterfall that made a nice stream. The water looked cold and sterile enough to drink. Vincent went over to it, cupped some in his hands, and smelled it and when he didn't smell anything unusual, he took a sip.

The water was colder and crisper than any water back at the main area of the Tunnels. It seemed to taste much better as well. Vincent stopped as he started realizing something.

_Is this _déjà vu He wondered. _Have I been here before? I must have. It seems so familiar – the old campsite, the waterfall, the taste of the water…_

_That's it! 'The Great Disappearance of 1964' or so Devin dubbed it. He must have been about fourteen or fifteen and I, twelve or thirteen. Devin had told me he had found a new set of tunnels, unexplored, and said that he had a great feeling about those tunnels, that they were 'special'…_

"_Come on, Fuzz!" Vincent remembered Devin saying. "It'll be great – we'll probably find some gold or somethin'."_

_Vincent had shaken his head. He had this sinking feeling that whatever Devin wanted to do, Father wouldn't approve of. "I don't think so, Dev' – Father might get mad."_

"_Who cares what the Old Man thinks?" Devin had said carelessly. "We'll be back before he even knows we're gone – and we'll probably have so many stories to tell from our journey that he won't have time to get mad."_

Well, _that_ had been 'the great understatement of 1964', Vincent was sure. When Father had noticed Vincent and Devin gone, he was furious.

"_what do you think we'll find?" Vincent had asked Devin as they wove their way through the unexplored tunnels._

"_I don't know – maybe hidden treasure, or the remains of another underground community." Devin imagined as the moved on. "Maybe we'll find-"_

"_I'm not so sure about this." Vincent had said slowly._

"_What are you, chicken?" Devin had challenged. "A scaredy-cat? Ooh, that's a good one."_

_Vincent's eyes had narrowed. He hated it when Devin pulled the 'scaredy-cat' bit on him – it wasn't funny, but it always worked. No way was Vincent going to chicken out after Devin taunted him like that._

"_Let's go.' Vincent had said, pushing past his older brother. "Are you coming, or are you too afraid?"_

Vincent shook his head. He had let Devin push him into many situations by using terms such as 'scaredy-cat', especially after Devin used something plain cruel after that like 'and I meant that literally' or 'that's a good pun'. But this was one of those times that he had let Devin push him into something that was a grave mistake, something that could have easily turned out to be a grave situation.

"_Uh, Devin?" Vincent had asked his brother countless hours later._

"_What is it, Fuzz?" Devin asked with a frustrated sigh, using the nickname 'Fuzz' on Vincent, a nickname Devin had started using on Vincent long ago._

_Vincent sighed, hating that nickname. It just reminded him, again, that he was different. "Where are we?" he asked tentatively, knowing that Devin was about to pull the 'scaredy-cat' bit on him again._

"_China." Devin had answered sarcastically. "Where do you think we are?"_

_Vincent had wiped a cobweb out of his hair. "I don't know."_

"_We're going on a little camping trip, is all?" Devin had tried to sound brave. "See, we've gone further than I thought we had. If we don't rest for the night, we'll be so tired we won't be able to find out way back."_

"_Father has had to notice we're missing by now." Vincent tried not to let his voice quiver._

"_Big deal." Devin had to say as he sat down on the ground, starting to make a fire. "who cares what the Old Man notices? He'll be noticing a lot of disappearances over the next week."_

At the time, Vincent didn't know what Devin had meant by that. He had just assumed it was one of those things that really only made sense in Devin's twisted mind, and was content with that explanation. But what he didn't know is that this would be one of the last bits of quality time spent with his brother – and Devin knew it.

The two boys had made camp there that night and slept fitfully. The next morning they headed home and were soon found by a search party. Devin had gotten the worst of the scolding and punishment, as usual, but didn't stick around long enough to fulfill his kitchen duty, which is what his punishment was, because he ran away three nights later, not coming back for a visit for twenty years.

Vincent shook his head as he splashed the water over his face. During Vincent's entire childhood, Devin had been his role model, and still remained a very important example in his life. WWJD meant nothing – but WWDD meant a lot – it meant 'what would Devin do'. When it came to his life with Catherine, that's what Vincent often asked himself, trying to do what Devin would do, during certain situations, what Devin would say?

_I wonder what Devin is doing right now? _Vincent couldn't help but wonder. _Where is he? Does he have a wife, or any children?_

Vincent couldn't help but chuckle at the thought. Devin had always been reasonably attractive, even though his face was slashed with scars, thanks to Vincent's claws. But Devin getting married? If he did that, he'd most certainly have to tell the woman about Below and Vincent, right? Anyone else would have, but Devin was liable to worm his way around it. Besides, Devin could never settle down and have a family. Devin was meant to roam, in Devin's own words.

_I wonder where I'll stand in relationship with my child._ Vincent thought suddenly. _Will it be a relationship like the one between me and Father, or more like one with Devin and Father? Or will it be completely different? Where will my standing be, my position? And the child won't know any better while it's young, of course, but what about when it's older? Will he or she be embarrassed by me, or treat me like an animal?_

He shuddered at the thought. He knew that his relationship with the child, where it stood, was a major factor in the child's life.

_And when he or she becomes an adult, will he or she still be ashamed of me? _Vincent wondered. _Will my grandchildren know of my existence?_

_Or will I have grandchildren? _The thought sent shivers up Vincent's spine. _What if the child is just like me, or worse?_

Vincent decided almost immediately not to think about it. That would only cause him to stress and strain, something he didn't need to do, since he couldn't do anything about it.

_Just keep your mind stable and concentrate on nothing, _Vincent instructed himself. _Let go of all the worries, frustration, and pain. Just let it go._

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

Catherine flicked through the TV channels while Meg spoke on the phone with her husband, Mike. It was the next morning, a Monday morning, and they were going to go Below again today, so Meg could actually get to know the people who lived down there.

She paused on a channel, watching a few moments of a TV show called _Growing Pains_, and then continued. She wasn't all that much in the mood for a comedy – especially one that focused on family. It was so overwhelming, the fact that she was about to become an actual mother.

_That's something women become, _Catherine realized something. _Jeez Catherine – your in your thirties and it hasn't it you yet? You are a __**woman**__; you are no longer a girl, but a woman._

Catherine shook her head. It seemed silly; of course, she was a woman! She was hardly a little girl or a young lady anymore – she was a woman. Yet it had just hit her.

_I suppose through college and all, I still considered myself a girl, _Catherine realized. _After all, I was only legally an adult. And then between boyfriends, and finishing up college, and working for daddy, and other stuff, I guess the realization just got lost. I never really stopped to think about it._

Just then, Meg walked back into the room. "Hey, Catherine – I'm done." She said.

Catherine's thought snapped back up. "Oh? Oh, that's fine – good."

"What's wrong?" Meg asked, slightly concerned as she used the hair tie around her wrist to pull her hair back into a simple ponytail.

"Oh, nothing." Catherine said. "I just now made a stupid connection – it's silly."

"What was it?" Meg asked, curling up on the couch.

"I'm just really slow, and I hadn't realized something that I should have realized long ago. I—It's nothing." Catherine couldn't hide the red from creeping into her cheeks.

"You can't be as slow as me." Meg said. "I just figured out while I was on the phone with Mike what I-10 meant. I mean, I knew it meant Interstate 10, but I didn't put the connection that that was what the 'I' stood for."

Catherine laughed. "Really, Meg?"

Meg nodded. "Cross my heart, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye; shake my bottom when I got 'em."

Catherine laughed again. "Never heard that last part before."

"It's something that's floating around now, that the kids now add on to it." Meg explained with a laugh. "Bailee and her friends say it all the time and I'll bet you'll be hearing it a lot soon."

Catherine nodded. "Well, its silly, but I just realized that I am not a girl anymore, but that I'm a woman. I mean, I knew I was, but it just registered; I'm a grown-adult. A grown-woman. I'm not just a 'big girl' but an adult. I don't know… it's hard to explain… and I know it sounds stupid, but-"

"But most women realize it at one point or another." Meg said. "I sure did."

"You did?"

Meg nodded. "When I was thirty-one, when Cameryn was born. I was already a mother, of course, but I didn't have to go through a pregnancy. The pregnancy was different. It's… so hard to explain. I've talked with other women about it, though and they all say the same thing, which was that each, all of a sudden, woke up one day and realized they could no longer be described as 'girls'."

Catherine gave a sigh of relief. "So I'm not crazy?"

"Well," Meg drew the word out in teasing form.

Catherine gave her cousin a playful swat. "So, what's on the agenda today? Hanging out Below, of course, but what else?"

Meg shrugged. "I'm putty – I'll do whatever you want to."

Catherine sighed. "I wish Vincent were here."

"He'll be back in a couple days – and be himself, I'm sure." Meg said.

Catherine nodded. "I don't know, but it seems that he's been thrown out of whack lately – our bond hasn't helped him any in that department."

Meg shook her head. "Bond? That just doesn't make any sense, Catherine."

"I don't pretend it does." Catherine said, taking a deep breath. "But I try to make the most sense out of it that I can. It's almost like… you know when you know someone real well; you know what they are thinking, or what they say before they even say it?"

Meg nodded, so Catherine continued. "Well, I think it may be sort of like that, at least on my part, whenever I can sense Vincent. But he can usually sense me at any random moment, tell where I am, and all those little details, and when I can feel him, it's… not that often and not that strong. I think…" her voice trailed as she considered her next thought.

"What do you think?" Meg wanted to know.

"I think that his being able to sense me is a special gift for him." Catherine said. "I'd even go as far to say as something divine."

"A gift from Above?" Meg asked, with her eyebrows raised. "No pun intended."

Catherine laughed nevertheless. "Yes. You see, Vincent has this extreme… disadvantage. A disadvantage where Father was certain, and so was Vincent, I believe, certain that no woman would ever love Vincent, at least not in any sort of romantic way. To most people, he appears an ugly beast," she spat those last two words out. "And while it's not exactly duel-personalities… its more like a nature fighting against each other – a human nature and another… completely different. Those are extreme disadvantages that he has _no_ control over. So maybe the bond is a gift for him, to make up for what he lacks, so to speak."

"If you and Vincent didn't have your 'bond', would you still love him?" Meg wanted to know.

Catherine thought for a moment. "Well, of course I'd love him as a person, but you mean, as a romantic interest?"

Meg nodded. "I'm not trying to challenge, you Cathy – I'm just trying to understand."

"I understand that you're just trying to understand." Catherine smiled. "I'm not sure how the fireworks would have set off if the bond didn't exist, but I'm relatively certain that they would have eventually." She sighed. "The problem is that I'm not sure how long this whole thing can last. I mean, I love him with all my heart, I do." Catherine appeared to truly believe it. "And I know I always will. And I know that the whole 'American-Dream' can't typically happen – imagine Vincent climbing the corporate ladder."

"But trying to imagine my entire life being spent the way it is now hurts too much." She shook her head with pain. "If I could move Below full-time, or heck! Even marry him, even though I understand that 'making love' I against the 'rules', I'd be happy just to be his wife! But spending my entire life confined to following the love rules of Father and spent living half of my life in secret, of Vincent being just an _**extremely**_ close friend…" her voice trailed. "I'd do anything for him, or in this case, I _won't_ do anything for him, but it's just hard, you know?"

Meg shook her head. "No, I don't know, Catherine. Half of your life is spent in a completely different world, I world that I know very little of. But I do understand that you love him, want him, and would do anything to 'get' him, but you also love him, want him to be happy, respect him, and would do anything to see that he stays loved, happy and respected. Now personally, I don't know what's wrong with giving 'love' another physical chance," she made a swift motion to Catherine's belly, where the baby was lying in wait. "But if you do, or if Vincent does, then that's how your decision should be made."

"But Father-"Catherine began.

"'Father' isn't included in this conversation." Meg said sternly, trying out the word 'Father'. "If you or Vincent doesn't feel safe about 'making out', then don't. But neither one of you should let 'Father' affect that decision. It's one no one can make for you. 'Father' has no control over you and Vincent – you two can make your own decision, and if the decision is having one hundred babies, then so be it!"

Catherine sighed. "I really wish it was that easy. I really do-"

"It is!" Meg insisted.

Catherine shook her head. "No its not. Vincent ignoring Father's instructions is different than, for example, Mike ignoring his father's instruction."

"How?" Meg asked.

"Because Vincent has to live with his Father," Catherine tried desperately to explain. "Vincent still has to obey Father to a very large degree – becoming eighteen meant nothing."

"But as for his romantic life-"

"Father's doing it with Vincent's best interest in mind, and my own interest." Catherine stated. "If Vincent _did_ hurt me, Vincent would be miserable – forever. He'd blame himself forever."

"_If_ Vincent hurt you, _if_ this happens, _if_ that happens!" Meg couldn't help but mock her cousin. "What's with all of those 'ifs'? Don't you think you two should talk about this?"

"Me and Father?"

"No!" Meg rolled her eyes in exasperation. "You and Vincent!"

"We need to talk about if he hurt me?" Catherine was really starting to get confused with where this conversation was going to.

"No; you two need to talk about what you two are going to do, regardless of what Father says." Meg said. "You're having his child, correct?"

Catherine nodded.

"The baby will be sleeping in his room- chamber?" Meg asked, correcting room to chamber.

Catherine again nodded.

"And you're going to sleep down there during the weekends, but not during the week, in your own chamber?"

"Yes."

"Why not all the time?" Meg asked. "Why not sleep down there every night?"

"Well, I have to keep an address Above…" Catherine began.

"And of course you can do that." Meg said. "No big deal. You can still work at the DA's office and all that. The only reason you won't move Below full-time is for one or two reasons."

"Which are?" Catherine asked, a bit annoyed with being challenged like that by Meg – and Meg being kind of right.

"Number one, Father told you that you can't move down there, so you and Vincent are naturally abiding by his wishes, not thinking about what would be best for your relationship. Number two, you are scared. Afraid. Afraid of how far your relationship could go, what could happen, and those kinds of things."

"I am not afraid!" Catherine's eyes flashed.

"Then why didn't you move down there a long time ago?" Meg asked.

Catherine sighed. "I did, right after daddy died. But we finally decided that it would be better for me to continue my work at the DA's office Above."

"And you can," Meg reminded Catherine. "You can. Just keep an apartment Above, or at least a P.O. Box."

Catherine shook her head. "It's not all that easy."

"How is it not all that easy?" Meg asked.

"You're not making this easy."

"I'm not trying to." Meg said.

"I noticed." Catherine replied. "I just… can't move Below. There are too many… complications."

"Complications or excuses?" Meg raised her brows.

"Complications _and_ excuses." Catherine admitted. "But mind you, the excuses come from Father and Vincent – not me."

"I hardly know Father, so judging him would be especially wrong, but it seems tat he's reluctant to let Vincent… to let Vincent grow up, reluctant to let Vincent make his own choices."

Catherine shrugged. "He just plays a very big part in Vincent's life, is all."

"But do you see what I'm trying to say about the reluctance?" Meg asked.

Slowly, Catherine nodded. "So you think that I should move Below, that I should care less about what Father says."

"No, by all means, care about what Father says." Meg told her cousin. "Care deeply, but do not immediately follow his instructions if your not sure – talk it over with the people involved, and in this case, that person is Vincent. Talk about moving Below with Vincent, see what he says."

"He'll say no." Catherine predicted. "Or 'maybe later' or 'now is not the time', at least."

"Talk to him." Meg persisted. "You want to move Below, right?"

Catherine shrugged. "I like it down there, with all of the love and simplicity. And I'd give anything to be Vincent's-"

"Then there you go." Meg broke Catherine off briskly. "Talk to him." She stood up off the couch.

"But even if Vincent thinks I should move Below, it won't make a difference." Catherine stood up as well. "Not only do I have to get Father to agree with us, but I have to get the _whole_ community to agree with me."

"You won't be the sole person doing the convincing; Vincent will be right at your side if you talk it over with him first." Meg reminded her cousin.

_She's right, _Catherine realized. She turned to Meg. "How do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Think and speak as deep as you do, to work out problems."

"Mike works out other people's problems for a living." Meg stated, reminding Catherine of Mike's work as a counselor/psychiatrist. "I guess he rubs off on me a bit."

"More like a lot." Catherine said. "Well, Vincent won't be Below today, so I can't talk to him about it today."

"Then talk to him about it tomorrow. Or the next day. Or the next day. As soon as the opportune moment arrives." Meg said. "But you might not want to do it right when he gets home – he'll probably be tired, dirty, hungry and irritable – bad combination."

Catherine shook her head. "Tired, yes. Dirty, more than likely. Hungry, definitely. And irritable? Perhaps if I egg him on enough, I could irritate him. Depends on his state of mind when he gets back…" her voice trailed, being once again of the reason Vincent went away.

"He'll be fine." Meg told Catherine gently. "Just fine. It seems quite noble, actually, him going away in order not to sadden anyone if he goes crazy, to make life easier for his friends and family. It reminds me of a story I heard once of a man in the 1800's who was bitten by a skunk with rabies."

"It's wasn't called 'rabies' until recently; it was called 'hydrophobia'." Catherine stated, remembering one of the many, many things she had learned while Below, in Father's library and listening to the Tunnel folk talk.

"Well, anyways, he was bitten by a skunk that certainly had hydrophobia, as you call it. Back then, they didn't have shots and all that, so he was certain he'd go as mad as the skunk. So he chained himself to a tree for a month, so in case he did go mad, he couldn't hurt his family."

"And if he went mad?"

"I don't know; I suppose his wife would have had to shoot him." Meg admitted.

Catherine shuddered. "I could never shoot my husband."

"It would be a hard position to be in, to be sure."

"Did he go mad?"

"The man who got bitten by the skunk?" Meg asked. "Nah, I don't think so."

"You mean you didn't find out the end to the story?" Catherine couldn't help but be a tad bit disappointed.

"Nope, I didn't." Meg said. "Either that or I forgot it. C'mon, is there anything else you'd like to discuss before we go Below?"

"No." Was Catherine's reply. "But just a couple reminders; don't speak about the baby's conception or any terms like that to anyone unless it's a female, Jamie's age or older. Or any baby's conception, for that matter. And questions will always be answered with no problem, but when it comes to _how_ Vincent was born or created, it can get a little… awkward."

"Thanks." Meg said. "It's kind of like a whole different world down there… a different culture completely. I still can't believe you're dating a man from underground."

"He's courting me, actually." Catherine couldn't help but laugh. "And taking things very slowly and a little clumsily, while we're both savoring every moment."

"Clumsily?" Meg sounded amused. "What makes you use that word?"

Catherine shrugged. "Maybe 'unsure' would be a better word." She said. "He hasn't exactly had much experience in the romance department of life."

"Seems as if he's lacking a lot of life's normal experiences." Meg commented.

"Well, he doesn't get to go above ground, he's never ridden in a car, much less driven a car, and is ashamed to look in a mirror, but he's not normal." Catherine said. "Why should he have normal experiences? No other man I have ever met has been half as beautiful, inside and out, as humble, loving, gentle, caring, polite, cultured, smart-"

"I get the picture!" Meg laughed as Catherine's began going on her long list of adjectives. "You like him a lot."

"Well don't you think he's all of that?" Catherine couldn't help but ask her.

"I hardly know him." Meg answered truthfully. "Though he seems like a wonderful man. And while 'beautiful' wouldn't be my first choice of words, no offense, it might come later on, as I get to know him."

"Hopefully it won't – Mike might get jealous and I might get possessive." Catherine teased, knowing her cousin didn't mean to insult her or Vincent in any way.

"Maybe we should-"Meg was interrupted by knocking on the front door.

"I'll get it." Catherine excused herself. She opened the door a crack and saw Kipper standing there, breathless. Quickly she shut the door to unlock the chain and opened it wide. "Kipper? What is it?" She asked, knowing it must be important for Kipper to come Above to tell her something.

"Pipe's busted." Kipper tried to catch his breath.

"Pipe? What pipe?" Meg asked, nearing the young boy.

"Vincent's back." The boy breathed. "He came back and a few minutes later, the pipe busted."


	19. Chapter 19

19

"Pipe's busted." Kipper tried to catch his breath.

"Pipe? What pipe?" Meg asked, nearing the young boy.

"Vincent's back." The boy breathed. "He came back and a few minutes later, the pipe busted."

"What pipe?" Catherine and Meg asked together.

"That old pipe Vincent's been trying' to fix!" Kipper exclaimed. "Mud is everywhere!"

"Everywhere?" Catherine asked, alarmed, knowing that one pipe busting could flood the entire community.

"In our lowest chambers." Kipper assured her. "We can fix it easy, but Vincent wanted me to tell you he was back, and he was fine, so you wouldn't have to worry. But you can't come Below for a couple days because of the flooding and the work."

Catherine struggled to figure out what the message exactly was, since Kipper's unorganized, fragmented sentences weren't very helpful, but luckily, Meg had had a lot of experience with children and understood.

"So Vincent's back, and he's perfectly fine, but a pipe busted, so now everyone is trying to fix it and stop the flooding. It will take a few days, but Vincent doesn't want Catherine involved because he doesn't want her doing heavy physical labor in her… condition, right?"

Kipper nodded. "Is that it?" Meg asked. Again, Kipper nodded.

"Okay." Catherine sighed. "Tell him I got the message, and I love him, 'kay?"

Kipper nodded and ran from the door, obviously headed back Below to participate in the wet and muddy catastrophe.

Catherine shook her head as she watched him go. "Why is Vincent back already? He was gone… not even twenty-four hours!" she exclaimed, looking at her watch.

"Maybe he missed you too much," Meg teased. Noting the seriousness on Catherine's face, Meg shrugged. "Or maybe he isn't going mad, or maybe he forgot something and needed to come back. Or maybe-"

"And I won't be able to find out for days because Vincent doesn't want me down there!" Catherine moaned. "Just because everyone is doing heavy labor, and he doesn't want me to!"

"It's his responsibility as a father to keep you safe during the pregnancy." Meg stated. She glanced at Catherine sideways. "And you two are, in some… strange way, husband and wife – the husband's job is to protect the wife."

"We're not husband and wife!" Catherine protested.

"No, your not." Meg said. "But you might as well be. Back to our original conversation; I don't know all of the drawbacks to your and Vincent's relationship, and I can't predict the future, but I think you two should forgo any risks and at least _try_."

"We don't need to sleep together to be in love." Catherine retorted.

"I never said you did!" Meg said. "You two in love is quite beautiful actually, from what I've seen and heard. But what is really stopping you from making a home together?"

Catherine thought before she spoke. "It's… complicated, like I've said. Even if I did move down there full-time, how would that help my relationship with him?"

Meg shrugged. "Exactly how it would help, I can't pinpoint, but it would, don't you think? And it would be good for your baby, as well."

Catherine sighed. "I wish I could just quit my job altogether."

"Do you want to?" Meg asked.

Catherine shrugged. "I enjoy it, and I've met a lot of great people working there. And I know I've helped so many people… but then when I think about living Below full-time as a mother and… practically a wife, working at the DA's office just doesn't seem so appealing anymore."

Meg nodded. "Than talk to Vincent about it." She said. "Tell him what you just told me – and then some. And don't take this the wrong way, but under the circumstances you might not want to bear your soul to him."

"What circumstances?"

"Pregnant, hormonal circumstances." Meg laughed.

Catherine sighed. "One minute you make me so mad at you and the next I nearly laugh. How do you do that?"

"I make an honest, friendly point." Meg said. "And as for you being mad, perfectly understandable. And your laughing is too. Your pregnant, remember? This is the stage in life where you're entitled to be happy and sad at the same time, eat pickled banana peppers on top of Oreo ice cream, and go on clothes shopping sprees."

Catherine winced. "Pickled banana peppers on top of Oreo ice cream?"

Meg shrugged. "I just chose two random foods and put them together, Catherine. It tasted pretty good at the time, actually."

"And how does it taste now?" Catherine wanted to know, very curious.

Meg shook her head. "Haven't tasted it since I was pregnant with Cameryn; haven't craved it."

Catherine looked down at her swelling belly and grimaced. "Oh, I hate being fat."

"You aren't fat!" Meg exclaimed. She put her hand on Catherine's stomach and gently pushed on it. "See? If you were fat, you'd be… squishy. But your stomach is as hard as a rock – feel!"

Catherine did and saw that Meg was right. "But I still look fat." She complained.

"No, you look pregnant." Meg corrected. "You can tell just by looking at you that you are a thin person. Yes, it looks like you swallowed a soccer ball, but don't worry; one glance at you and people know immediately that your pregnant, that your _not_ fat."

"You think so?" Catherine asked, still self-consciously examining her stomach.

Meg nodded. "I know so. Now stop worrying about everything," she put her hand on top of her cousin's. "Your fine. The baby is fine. And knowing that Vincent is back, he must be fine. Everything is just fine. Everything is going to be okay, at the worst. Count on it."

Catherine sighed. "I think this is a bad omen."

"What?" Meg burst out laughing. "Since when have you believed in 'bad omens'?"

"Well, I don't, exactly." Catherine admitted. "But, there is this woman Below named Narcissa who is very… powerful. It is as if she can tell the future sometimes. Father and many, many other people Below, while they love her, they have no great faith in her 'magic'. But Vincent does."

"Vincent believes in magic? Witchcraft?" Meg asked, doubtfully.

"No, not witchcraft, exactly." Catherine searched for the words to explain. "But he knows Narcissa has power, and to heed her warnings. Maybe she's just rubbed off a bit on me, but it seems that Vincent and I have been faced with a lot of bad luck lately… or difficulties may be a better way to put it."

"What difficulties?"

"Well, first of all, Vincent's madness. Then my pregnancy. Then your coming Below," Catherine ticked off her fingers. "Then his madness maybe once again, and now a pipe is busted. Sounds like bad luck to me."

Meg laughed. "And what would Vincent say to that?"

Catherine thought a moment before she spoke. "I can just hear him saying something along the lines of 'true love endures all difficulty' or 'love is tested best by trials'."

"So would he worry about it?" Meg asked.

Catherine sighed. "He's going to kill himself with worry, I think. He's always so constantly worried that he's not good enough for me, worried that he's going to hurt me, worried that maybe our love is not a good thing, worried that the baby is going to be like him, worried that he is going to go mad, worried that-"

"He's a worry-wart, I get it." Meg said. "But with good reason. Ever think of at least taking on a different job at the DA's office? One less dangerous? Maybe it will help ease his worries to know that while at work, your safe, instead of being shot at."

"We'll discuss that while we're discussing me quitting my job in the first place." Catherine said. "I might as well quit though – with all the time off I've been taking and all. And money isn't a problem; love is the only currency Below, and if we ever needed to buy something from Above, my parents left me with more than enough money."

"Tell him, not me!" Meg exclaimed.

Catherine sighed. "I can't, remember? Not until the whole busted pipe thing is resolved."

"Well, since our plans for today were to go Below, how'd you like to spend it now?" Meg asked.

"We could spend another day out in New York City." Catherine suggested.

Meg looked at her cousin doubtfully. "Are you sure you aren't too tired for that?"

Catherine nodded. "I'm sure."

"I don't want to be responsible if you faint from exhaustion." Meg said.

"I won't faint." Catherine rolled her eyes. "Last one out the door is a rotten coconut."

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

Vincent was up to his elbows in mud – literally. He used his mud-soaked gloved hand to push his wild mess of hair out of his face so he could see what he was doing. Sure, it got his hair covered in mud, but since he covered in the stuff that it really didn't matter.

Expertly, he wound the strong tape over the pipe. Cullen had welded the pipe back together, using the blacksmithing skills he had learned from the departed Winslow, but winding tape around the welded product was in order, just to make it more stable. Finally, satisfied that the pipe was fixed to the best of their abilities, he turned and began wading out of the mud, to put his tools up.

All around him, children, men and women of all ages were participating in the clean-up of the muddy mess. Bucket loads of mud were being towed assembly-line style, and the contents being dumpers off into the abyss. It would most likely take a good three days, at least, to get the majority of the mud cleaned up that way, but it was the best way to get it cleaned up.

Vincent saw Jamie struggling to pick up a bucket capable of holding forty-pounds of water – only the bucket was full of mud. She was dirty and sweaty, and looked exhausted from the physically excruciating work. He quickly walked over towards her and picked up the bucket for her, being able to lift forty pounds of mud a lot more easily than the young girl. "Go, get some rest." He instructed gently.

"I want to help." She said firmly, eying the men who were picking up the equally loaded buckets without a problem.

"I know you do, Jamie, and you can." Vincent said. "But your place is not here, do you understand? Everyone is working where they can be used the best. I am working here because I can lift and haul, Kipper and Samantha are filling the buckets because they _cannot _lift and haul, Mary is supervising all the children, Father is supervising the entire clean-up project, William is ensuring everyone keeps their strength up by bringing them water and food, and Mouse is working on a contraption that will make cleaning up the mud much easier. We all have our own strengths, Jamie, and it happens to be that yours is not right here."

"Then where am I supposed to work?" she asked, putting her hands on her hips. "With the women and children?"

"Where you're needed the most." Vincent repeated gently. "Perhaps they need your skills over in the abyss. There is certain chaos there, I am sure. Perhaps you can straighten things out over there."

"Like, a general, in charge of the assembly line, over at the abyss." Her eyes widened at the thought.

Vincent nodded. "Like a general, instructing and encouraging his soldiers on. Go now, get some organization up there."

With a nod, the girl fled, her skirts flying wildly around her legs. Vincent chuckled as he went a few feet, where he handed off the bucket to another person, and then went back down into the mud again to get another bucket that the children had scooped mud into. Jamie wanted so badly to be the equivalent as the men Below. She wanted to be strong, courageous, and useful, and she certainly had proved to be skillful with her crossbow. She was such a tomboy, in such an innocent and naïve way, which is what Vincent, loved about her. Nearly eighteen years of age and still acted the same as she did when she was eleven, though thoughts a little bit more mature and rational. That was the beauty of the children Below – there was no one rushing the children into growing up, into being a certain kind of person, into fitting into a certain mold. Everyone could be different, and that was all right.

With a groan, he picked up his second bucket. He hands were still rubbed raw and blistered from work he had done the past few days, and the end of his left thumb was still a bit sore from him cutting into the quick.

_And the claw hasn't grown back very quickly, _Vincent realized. _Perhaps in order to keep them short I need to cut into the quick._ But remembering the pain that had shot through his body when he had cut the quick was enough to make Vincent quickly abandon that thought.

_I have had hardly enough time to talk to Father about my conclusion on the sickness before the pipe broke, _Vincent thought as he handed the bucket off in the assembly-lined style formation the Tunnel dwellers had made. _I haven't had time to tell him of my new theory, that the madness comes from too much frustration, anger and worry, especially when that anger is angled at me. That perhaps if I purposely keep from having too strong of those emotions, especially at the same time, that the madness will not occur. It happened when I was young, when I was feeling that way about myself, and it happened last year, with similar emotions surging through my body. And it almost happened again, but luckily, I caught myself in time… I hope. Perhaps it _is_ what causes the madness, and if it does, perhaps I am cured._

_Not cured. _Vincent reminded himself. _Somehow, I get the feeling that it is like being an alcoholic that you can never completely escape, that the temptation is always there. That even though you now longer drink, you are still an alcoholic – which can be hereditary._

Vincent shuddered, knowing that that was true. He would always be faced with the madness; he'd just have to keep himself in check, just as one who is trying to stop drinking would have to keep themselves in check. That he would have the side-effects follow him the rest of his life; the way people thought of him was based at least a little bit on his madness, and certainly, the madness might be hereditary, just as alcoholism or being homosexual could be hereditary.

He picked up another bucket and was just handing it off when Father neared him. "Vincent, may I speak to you for a moment?"

"Yes, Father?" Vincent asked dutifully as he handed the bucket off to the next person in line.

"What happened to your journey?" Father searched for the right way to ask the question. "I thought you intended to be gone much longer than twenty-four hours."

"I did intend to be gone much longer." Vincent said, picking up a bucket and passing it off, but still being submissive to her father's questioning. "But I had come to a realization, and after I had spent some time to let that thought settle, I intended to come back to share that that realization with you, and of course, Catherine."

"And that realization is?" Father asked, leaning on his cane for support.

"Remember when I first got the sickness?" Vincent asked, lowering his voice because he was aware that all around him could hear him if he didn't. "It was during a time when, typically, one feels… insecure, alone, angry, and perhaps a bit worried about themselves or the future. It was also soon after the 'incident' with Lisa…" his voice trailed, his mind traveling back to that point in time.

"Yes, I remember." Father said. "Continue, Vincent."

"And the second time I got the sickness, last year, it was during a time of great insecurity, anger, and frustration – and worry." Vincent said, picking up another bucket and handing it off. "Insecure in myself, angry at myself, frustrated at myself and my situations, worried for Catherine."

"Are you saying that the madness is triggered by those emotions?" Father asked, with his eyebrows raised.

Vincent nodded. "More or less, yes, I am trying to say that. What happened in the sixties, in 1987 and what is going on now… don't you see similarities in those events?"

Father nodded. "Now that you speak of it, I do. Supposing you are right, do you have a way to prevent the sickness?"

"I do think time alone is helpful," Vincent paused in his speaking as he was handed an empty bucket that came down from the line, which he handed to Mary and the children, who were quickly filling up buckets. "But the Meditation Chamber would suffice."

Father nodded, knowing that Vincent was one of the people Below who visited the Meditation Chamber often, to pray for his beloved Catherine. There, he would likely not be disturbed, and even if he was, it would be by someone who wouldn't speak to him, because they came to pray and be alone as well, so he would still practically be alone.

"The time alone gives me time to sort out my thoughts, to reason with myself." Vincent continued while passing up a bucket the children had just filled.

"Do you not still journal?" Father asked his son. "I thought I told you to do that everyday. Just because many years have passed since I told you to journal everyday does not mean that you can stop-"

Vincent held up a mud-covered hand, signaling for Father to stop. "I do, Father. And I thank you for telling me to do so, for it helps me sort out my thoughts and can be used to… vent anger." He admitted. "But time ensured alone, for even if I'm in my chamber with the curtain shut, that does not ensure aloneness, is what I need. Perhaps just for an hour a day, or an hour a week, or even once very few months. But a bit of time to myself always helps. Also, stopping myself from getting too carried away with myself." Vincent paused, willing himself not to be ashamed. But still, he ducked his head. "Stopping myself from thinking negative and angry thoughts to myself, about myself."

"There is no need for you to torture yourself so." Father reminded Vincent. "What you are is what you are, and no amount of torture or shame will ever change it for the better."

Vincent nodded, picking up a now full bucket and passing it up the line, retrieving an empty one being passed to him simultaneously. "I know."

Father sighed. "It does not seem that we've made much progress?"

"In the clean-up or in myself?" Vincent asked.

"Both." Father could not help but chuckle. "Not much progress in you for this circumstance." He added quickly. "You've come a long way in the past thirty-seven years, has it been that long, Vincent?"

Vincent nodded. "So I am told, yes, it has been thirty-seven years."

Father shook his head in disbelief. "But it seems like only yesterday when I held you in my arms, letting you suck my finger in order to not cry."

Vincent couldn't help but laugh at that image that Father just painted. "Did I really do that?"

"You did." Father told his son, shifting his weight a bit on his cane. "Between illnesses, malnutrition, being tired, not being held when you wanted to, being held when you didn't want to, and just plain being a baby, you were a very loud baby." He chuckled again. "I never knew until then that such a small being could make so much noise." He watched his son with pride as Vincent handled two full buckets at the same time, passing them up one by one though, as most of the other men could not handle such a heavy load. "And it is even harder to believe that such a tiny one could grow up to handle over eighty pounds of mud at the same time."

"What are the odds, Father?" Vincent asked after a long pause.

"The odds of what, son?" Father asked.

Vincent ducked his head, Father rarely calling him 'son' instead of saying 'Vincent'. It felt rather good, to be reminded once again of the older man's unprejudiced, unconditional love. "The odds of the baby being like Catherine?" Vincent asked.

"Or the odds of the baby being like you?" Father asked. "The odds are… no one can know, Vincent. Normally the genes are split in a fifty percent of looking like the mother, fifty percent of looking like the father. But in the case of you and Catherine…" he searched for the words. "Imagine if a robin was pregnant with an octopuses' child – what would the baby come out looking like?"

Vincent sighed. "Comparing the baby and I to animals is not exactly comforting, Father."

"You know my intentions are to just make a point!" Father said, exasperated. "That the baby could look like Catherine just as easily as it could look like you. Maybe we'll be lucky and the baby will just have blue eyes like yours. Maybe the baby will look like you, but have Catherine's smile. Maybe the baby will look like Catherine, but have the mentality of an-" Father stopped himself, catching himself before saying animal, but it was too late – Vincent already knew what Father was going to say.

"Have the mentality of an animal." Vincent finished. "Go on, you can say it." He passed on a full bucket.

"We have no ideas what genes run through your veins, Vincent." Father said with a deep breath. "How can we possibly know what to expect?" he paused before continuing with his next sentence. "But you have some sort of… connection with this baby, right? You can sense its presence – can you tell any of the details?"

Vincent shook his head. "I am afraid that that connection has gotten very foggy over the past few weeks. Perhaps I was just imagining some kind of connection, or perhaps it is fading for some reason."

"You can still sense the baby to a degree, right?" Father asked, somewhat concerned for his grandchild's welfare.

Vincent nodded. "Yes, the baby is fine, Father. I think I would know if otherwise." He passed on an empty bucket back to the children as he passed a full bucket to the next person in the assembly line.

"Perhaps we could discuss all of this in… deeper context later?" Father asked, noting that his son was probably getting a bit embarrassed by this conversation, in front of nearly every Tunnel dweller and Helper they had.

"Yes, later." Vincent agreed. _And with Catherine, _he noted to himself.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"It sounds just like a fairy tale," Catherine murmured, after Meg retold her meeting Mike. "Did you know then and there you were going to marry him?"

"In a sense, yes." Meg admitted. "It used to drive me crazy, knowing that I was likely to get married, but to _who_? Did I already know him? And if I hadn't already met him, where would I meet him, and when? When would I meet him, when would we get married? It drove me crazy!"

"Like the song _Matchmaker_ from _Fiddler on the Roof_." Catherine said. "An old woman named Yente is the matchmaker, picking out people husbands and wives. The girls are wondering who they will marry and-"

"It's my absolute favorite number from the show." Meg interrupted. "How does it start again? Something along the lines of 'Matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match', right?"

"_Matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match_

_Find me a find, catch me a catch_

_Matchmaker, matchmaker, look through your book_

_And make me a perfect match"_

Catherine quietly sang the first verse of the song. To her surprise, Meg knew the second verse and started singing it.

"_Matchmaker, matchmaker, I'll bring the veil_

_You bring the groom, slender and pale_

_Bring me a ring for I'm longing to be_

_The envy of all I see"_

The two women joined in together, singing the third and forth verses.

"_For papa, make him a scholar_

_For mama, make him rich as a king_

_For me, well, I wouldn't holler_

_If he were as handsome as anything!"_

"_Matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match_

_Find me a find, catch me a catch_

_Night after night in the dark, I'm alone_

_So find me a match, of my own"_

Catherine laughed a bit self-consciously. "We haven't sung together in ages."

"We used to be really good, as I recall." Meg said. "How does the next part go?"

"Tzietel, the older daughter says 'whatever Yente brings, you'll take. Right? Of course, right!' And then she starts mocking Yente." Catherine said, recalling the lines from the play they had seen the other night.

"_Oh Hodel, oh Hodel, have I got a match for you!_

_He's handsome, he's young! All right, he's sixty-two_

_But he's a nice man, a good catch, true? True."_

"_I promise you'll be happy_

_and even if your not_

_There's more to life than that_

_Don't ask me what"_

Meg doubled over in laughter as Catherine finished singing that part. "Oh, that's funny!" Meg laughed.

"Tzietel is still not done singing." Catherine reminded her cousin. "You sing the next part."

Meg took a deep breath before starting;

"_Oh Chava, oh Chava, will you be a lucky bride!_

_He's handsome; he's tall, that is, from side to side_

_But he's a nice man, a good catch, right? Right."_

"_You've heard he has a temper_

_He'll beat you every night_

_But only when he's sober_

_So you're all right"_

Meg turned to Catherine, now full engaged in acting out the rest of the song. "_Did you think you'd find a prince?_" she sang.

"_Well, I'll do the best I can._" Catherine couldn't help but say, going along with their mini-performance.

"_With no dowry, no money, no family background, be glad that you've got a man!_" Meg sang, falling flat because she couldn't reach the high note.

Catherine giggled before continuing. "_Matchmaker, matchmaker, you know that I'm still very young, please, take your time._"

"_Up till this minute I misunderstood that I could get stuck for good._" Meg said.

They joined in together. "_Dear Yente, see that he's gentle, remember, you were also a bride. It's not that I'm sentimental – It's just that I'm terrified! Matchmaker, matchmaker, plan me no plans, I'm in no rush, maybe I've learned; playing with matches, a girl can get burned. So bring me no ring, groom me no groom, find me no find, catch me no catch, unless he's a matchless match!_"

Both women cracked up in laughter, collapsing on the sofa. Finally, when they caught their breath, Catherine spoke. "Oh, we haven't done that in years – I feel like a little girl!"

"But it was fun." Meg stated. "Wasn't it? We ought to act like little girls more often!"

Both women started laughing again for no apparent reason. But finally, they caught their breath again, so Catherine asked Meg a question. "Well, your match? Are you satisfied with him?"

"You mean, Mike?" Meg asked. "I think so. I think he is a perfect match. He's a scholar in the psychiatric area, and while we're not rich as kings, we don't starve." She glanced sideways at Catherine. "And contrary to popular belief, he _is_ handsome."

"At least he's not sixty-two, tall from side to side, beat you when he's sober, but is always drunk." Catherine couldn't help but refer to another part of the song.

"At least." Meg laughed. "He only drinks a little when we're at parties and whatnot, and that's not too often. What about Vincent?"

"Does he drink?" Catherine asked. "Haven't really spoken about it with him, but I doubt he's ever tasted alcohol in his life."

"Really, never?" Meg sounded impressed. "Poor him, but kudos for him just the same."

"What do you mean?" Catherine was puzzled.

"Well, I feel sorry for him because he's never gotten to taste fine wine or sweet champagne, but its good that he never has, in a wholesome sort of way. But I wasn't asking about his drinking habits anyways; I was asking 'what about Vincent' as in 'happy with your match'?"

Catherine nodded readily. "I am, I mean, I really am." She sounded convinced, but yet, a little unsure. "It's just complicated, as I've said before. I mean, the 'hands-off' policy is a good one, just a little nerve wracking, and I just wish he'd let me move Below! Maybe we could get married, and-"she stopped herself.

"Don't stop yourself from dreaming." Meg said. "Dreaming keeps people sane. But do not let yourself over-dream or you'll make yourself insane."

Catherine shuddered. "What's the matter?" Meg asked, noticing she had obviously triggered a certain thought in Catherine.

"Remember Stephen?" Catherine asked tentatively.

"You mean, the fiancée, Stephen?" Meg asked with a face. "Yeah, I remember him. Never liked him too much."

Catherine nodded. "Yeah, that's him. Well, he came back into my life recently, and claimed to have a brain tumor, that he was dying, and just wanted my friendship."

Meg looked sympathetic. "Oh, poor guy."

"Poor guy, indeed." Catherine scoffed. "Well, I went to his house one day to visit him and he kidnapped me. If it wasn't for Vincent, he would have killed me."

Meg gasped. "What happened to him?"

"Vincent tore him up pretty good." Catherine admitted. "I think he may be paralyzed from the waist down, now, thanks to Vincent. He was put in a psychiatric hospital."

"And the brain tumor? He lied about it?"

Catherine shook her head. "Not exactly. Somewhere, in his twisted mind, he really believed he was dying of a brain tumor. But no, he really doesn't have one."

Meg shuddered. "I thought he was a little weird, but absolutely crazy? Never thought that, I have to admit. Why are you bringing this up now? Why didn't you tell me when it happened?"

"Because then I might have had to explain Vincent." Catherine reminded her. "And I didn't feel ready to until recently. Telling you all about it had completely slipped my mind until you mentioned over-dreaming can drive one insane. Stephen was… obsessed and insane." She shuddered, imagining what her life would be like now had she not tried to escape from Stephen, or had Vincent not rescued her. She would probably still be his sex Barbie doll, living in absolute torture, for the rest of her life, tat Stephen probably would have put an end to.

"Wow." Meg said, her eyes filling wit tears. "I'm so sorry, Cathy!"

Catherine put her arm around her cousin. "I'm okay now, right? And I have a match that you feel perfectly comfortable about, right?"

"Well, except for those scars on you." Meg winced, remembering what they look like. "But since that wasn't exactly him, I'll let it slide. So, are there any more stories you've failed to tell me because Vincent was involved?"

"Well, remember the subway slasher?" Catherine asked. "It was relatively soon after the mugging? Someone who killed a bunch of people on a subway in order to rescue others?"

Meg nodded. "You said that the police never found him, that all your suspects led up to zero, except for one suspect, who disappeared from the face of the earth."

Catherine nodded. "Well, that's kind of true. The suspect the disappeared? Well, he turned out to be the slasher, and was just about to slash _me_, but Vincent came just in case. Jason, the suspect, fell into the abyss."

"The abyss?" Meg inquired.

"A big, big, big hole Below. No one has ever seen the bottom, it's so big. There is a bridge that crosses it that we use to cross it, but its so rickety looking that I can't stand to cross it, or watch someone else cross it." Catherine shuddered. "I'll show you next time we go Below – Vincent and I will both show you."

"Any more good stories?" Meg asked, getting comfortable on the sofa.

"I'd better make us a cup of coffee." Catherine replied, going to the kitchen. "Now there was the time that Elliot Burch was building this tower…"

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"Thank you, William." Vincent took the ladle from William and dipped it into the bucket, sipping the clean, cold, clear water. The water felt good on his cracked lips and dry mouth.

"You really ought to take a rest, Vincent." William advised his friend. "You have been at this nonstop for nine hours."

It was true. It was eleven o'clock at night and all of the workers, both helpers and tunnel dwellers alike, had gone home for some rest, intending to return in the morning to work on the mud catastrophe. But Vincent kept right on, filling up buckets up with mud and carrying them all the way to the abyss, where he would dump their contents out down in the endless hole, and then return back to the mud, to do the same thing over again. He generally did two or three buckets at a time, give or take a few.

Vincent nodded. "I hear you, William, but I cannot help but feel that this," he motioned to the catastrophe with his hand. "Is my fault. I should have repaired the pipe better."

William cleared his throat rather awkwardly. "You know, Vincent? I, er, overheard that conversation with you and Father earlier. He's right – you n-need to take it easy on yourself, stop blaming yourself for everything that goes wrong. This pipe breaking wasn't really anyone's fault – it would have busted sooner or later. And if you keep working like this nonstop, your going to break yourself worse," he motioned to Vincent's bootless foot that was bound in filthy bandages, Vincent's thumb and forehead that was also bound in equally dirty bandages. "Or you'll work yourself sick."

Vincent nodded reluctantly. "I take it Mouse hasn't come up with a contraption to clean up this mess any quicker?"

"He's still working on it, but personally, I don't think he'll come up with anything. Like Father said, even Da Vinci had his off-days."

Vincent was too tired to chuckle at the comment. "Thank you, William." He refrained from putting an affectionate hand on his friend's shoulder, since his hand was covered with mud. "I will head back to my chamber, as soon as I dump this last bucket in the abyss."

"It can wait." William said firmly. "Until tomorrow."

"You sound like Father." Vincent stated, amused.

"W-W-Well, Father would agree with me." William stammered, his face bright red, proud for such a compliment.

"He would." Vincent agreed, sitting the bucket down. "Come on, William – let's go home."

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"How do you know?" Meg whispered to Catherine as she descended down the ladder.

"I just do." Was Catherine's reply the moment Meg's foot touched the ground of Below. "C'mon, let's go find him before he realizes we're here."

"How do you know he's awake? And how do you know he won't care that we've come Below?" Meg shook her head in confusion.

"I can't explain it." Catherine said. "It has to do with the bond of ours. I just can't stand it, him being so close with it being so long since I've seen him. I miss him – he'll understand, I think."

"A sudden urge to see your love?" Meg couldn't help but tease. "A little late into the night to be visiting him, isn't it?"

Catherine shrugged. "I missed him, like I said. And he won't mind, like I said. Let's go. And we're nearing his chamber. Ssh, or he'll hear you."

"Why does it matter if he hears us?" Meg whispered.

"I don't know; I just want to surprise him, I guess." Catherine replied. "And he's got better hearing than the rest of us can put together – he'll be able to hear us whispering."

They got to Vincent's chamber just then. The curtain that served as a door was open, so Meg and Catherine were able to peek in.

Vincent was kneeling at his dresser, pulling out clean clothes. Catherine and Meg could tell just by looking at him from behind that he was covered from head to toe in mud.

"Vincent?" Catherine called tentatively.

Vincent whirled around, surprised to hear anyone awake at such an hour, especially his Catherine, who he thought he had sent a clear message to, to stay Above until further notice.

"Catherine!" he exclaimed in shock.

She was so happy to see his face again, even though it was mud-covered. She ran and hugged him around his neck. Of course, he was a good foot taller than her, so she had to jump, and was hanging on him when she hugged him, a good few inches off the ground. She buried her face into his neck, even though he was covered with dry mud, she didn't care.

"Catherine, what are you doing down here!" He exclaimed, gently setting her off of him.

"I missed you and I figured that by now you'd be done with your work and-"she wrapped her arms around him, hugging him as tight as she could.

Meg watched the scene from a distance, still standing outside his chamber. She felt a bit uncomfortable, as if Catherine had forgotten she was there, and as if Vincent didn't see her. Plus, she still wasn't extremely comfortable in his presence. She didn't mean to feel uncomfortable, but how many guys have a split lip and an actual mane? Not many and that's counting mythical creatures and gods.

"Oh, I missed you!" Catherine said, breathing in his scent. He smelled dirty, sweaty, and well, bad, but she didn't care; she thought he smelled beautiful.

Vincent noticed Meg standing in the doorway. "Ahem," he said, trying to make the situation as least awkward as possible.

Catherine turned from Vincent and looked over at Meg. "Oh, can Meg come in?"

Vincent nodded his consent, so Meg took a tentative step in. "How do you do, Vincent?" she asked politely, holding out her hand in greeting. "It's good to see you again."

He held up his hands in surrender mode. "I'm afraid I am too dirty." He told her, a bit of humor in his voice.

"What happened?" Catherine asked.

"The little boy, Kipper, said a pipe busted." Meg supplied. "What pipe?"

"Is it the one you've been trying to fix all this time?"

"Is it still flooding?" Meg wanted to know.

"How are you going to clean it up?" Catherine asked, always ready to help.

"Let us know if we can do anything."

"Is it the same pipe you've been trying to fix all this time?" Catherine asked again.

Vincent shook his head, signaling for the women to stop. He felt it was a rather awkward situation, standing in his chamber, him covered with dry mud, Catherine and her cousin who he hardly met just chatting with him. It felt really, really awkward.

"I, em, haven't all the details." Vincent apologized. "I had just come back when the pipe busted, but yes, it is the pipe I have been trying to fix, and no; Cullen did his best to weld it together, though he has not the same skills as Winslow."

"Who is Winslow?" Meg asked, directing the question to both Vincent and Catherine.

"Why don't you tell her about Winslow, Catherine?" Vincent suggested, hoping not to sound rude. "I need to get to the bathing chamber to get this mud off of me. Perhaps we will talk when I get back, or tomorrow morning may be better." He hoped they would get his less-than-subtle hint that he would prefer to talk the next day. He wanted to spend some time relaxing while bathing, and then go straight to bed, to wake up refreshed. He didn't want to seem rude, though. And while he treasured every moment he could possibly spend with Catherine, now just did not feel to be an opportune time at all.

_Still, she is pregnant, _he reminded himself. _Do not let er take this the wrong way._

Catherine nodded. "We'll talk in the morning, Vincent. I just wanted to see you tonight because... well…"

"May I be excused?" Meg interrupted, sensing that the couple should have a couple minutes of privacy. "I will meet you down the hall, Catherine." She called over her shoulder as she left Vincent's chamber.

Catherine turned back to Vincent and began fussing with his hair, which was, of course, covered in mud. "You look a fright," she fussed. "I understand that a mess must be cleaned up, but must you go _swimming _in the mud?"

"It is a lot of mud, and the only way we have to get it out is by bucket loads, to dump down the abyss." He said, shivers going up his spine while his scalp tingled. He never thought the day would come where she was actually running her fingers through his hair!

"But that will take forever," Catherine stopped, staring Vincent in the eyes, stunned. "Isn't there any other way?"

"If there was, Mouse would have figured it out by now." Vincent said.

Catherine's eyes suddenly filled with tears. "Oh, I've missed you so much!"

"You must have," Vincent commented, "to come see me so late at night."

"You used to come see me late at night too," Catherine reminded him of when he'd climb up her trellis eighteen stories to come visit her in the dead of night. He had only recently stopped because Catherine insisted he not while she was pregnant, so the baby could meet its father. Normally she wasn't all too concerned about him falling, knowing that he wouldn't, but since she had gotten pregnant, she had worried over a lot of little things like that.

"Anyways, I had to see you!" she said, looking at him in the eyes. "Every night I ache for you, but when you are gone, it's even worse. I can't sleep, not knowing if your safe or not."

"I'm safe," he assured her, holding out his arms for her to see. "Down here, everyone is safe. Safe from hate, safe from harm."

"But not safe from yourself," Catherine pointed out, motioning to the filthy bandage across his forehead. It was so muddy and dirty that it was nearly black. "What good does a bandage do if it's all dirty? Get in the shower and have Father re-bandage that tomorrow morning – I demand it!"

"Shower?" Vincent asked dryly.

"Go bathe then!" Catherine said, noticing that the word 'shower' had slipped out, the fact that showers did not exist Below having slipped her mind. "You know what I mean!"

Vincent nodded. "I do."

"I will see you tomorrow then?" Catherine asked.

Vincent shook his head. "I still have a mess to clean up." Vincent said, referring to the muddy mess in the lower chambers.

"Can I help?" Catherine asked, even though she knew it was hopeless. If Vincent had it his way, she wouldn't be allowed to move until the baby was three weeks old.

"No!" he said. "I do not want you over-exerting yourself, especially… in your condition." He added a bit uncomfortably.

To his surprise, Catherine laughed. "Oh, I love you!"

"Y-You do?" Vincent asked automatically. He hadn't expected _that_ to come out of her mouth.

"Yes, I do love you!" Catherine said, giving him another huge hug. "It's so cute, how you're shy to talk about such things as 'delicate conditions'!"

"It's just not… proper…" Vincent said.

"I know it, and that's what I also love about you!" Catherine exclaimed, laying her head against his hard muscled chest. "Even under the worst of circumstances, you do your best to remain as proper, chivalric, gentle, and patient as possible. Most men don't bother with that in the best of circumstances."

Vincent ducked his head in embarrassment, which made Catherine laugh again. "And I love it how you do that!"

"Y-You do?" Vincent stuttered again, not expecting her to say that either.

She nodded. "Oh, Vincent, I love you so much! More than anyone and everything else in the world combined! Don't ever change – not ever."

Vincent could feel his heart pounding as she gave him another gigantic hug. It was a struggle to keep breathing, he was so happy. Her, out of all the men in the world she could have, loved him. It just didn't seem to make any sense, and he doubted he would ever make any sense out of it. What did Catherine find so attractive about a man who looked like a cat, a man that had a tendency to act like an animal? He looked over at the wall, where there were a lot of scratch marks, where he had clawed the wall in rage throughout the years. He shook his head. No normal man would do that, and while it was true, that Catherine didn't deserve normal, his idea of the kind of 'special' she should have would be much further up the success and corporate ladder.

"What is it?" Catherine asked softly, a bit puzzled.

"What do you mean?" Vincent was jerked back to the present.

"You're shaking your head so." Was Catherine's reply. "What's wrong?"

Vincent took a deep breath. Here was that urge again, the urge to express his love for her openly, freely, and honestly. The urge to tell her that she was his source of inspiration, his every breath, his favorite sight and sound. The urge to tell her that he loved her more than Shakespeare thought was possible, more than the grains of sand on a sandy shore, more than the grass in a pasture. That he loved her with all he was, and that loved would never fade, but only grow stronger, as it did each passing day.

But he couldn't tell her that! If he told her that, perhaps she might feel somewhat forced? Forced to be 'his', forced to move Below, forced to quit her job… no! He couldn't do that to her!

_As much as she thinks she would enjoy a life Below, could she really take it? _He wondered. _Give up her job, all her worldly possessions? It would be like a knife in the flesh, and I cannot be responsible for such pain! Hide your love for her, Vincent, like you have been all this time. It will make it easier for both of you to let go, when that time comes, as it most certainly will._

Vincent knew in his heart that Catherine loved her with all that she was, that she would never fall in love with another man, and if the only way for Vincent's to be hers was to quit her job, move Below, cut off all connections Above, she'd do it in a heartbeat. He knew that, but he had the hardest time believing it was the right thing for her to do, so he kept his passions secret, hoping he would not influence any decisions Catherine could make, and that could wind up being very bad ones. He didn't want to make her unhappy.

"Hmmm?" Catherine said, pulling her head off of his chest and bending her head far back so she could see his face. "What is it? What's wrong?"

Vincent let out the breath he didn't quite realize he was holding. "Nothing, Catherine. Nothing is wrong."

"What are you thinking of, then?"

"You." Vincent admitted.

Catherine frowned. "Then I should hope you weren't shaking your head in disapproval?"

"No, I was not." Vincent replied honestly. "It was more of in disbelief."

"Disbelief?" Catherine asked. "What do you not believe, Vincent?"

"Catherine, how could you love this?" he held his arms out once again so she could see him fully. He then let his arm fall to his side, and then dropped his head down and shook it slowly. "I just do not understand."

"Oh, Vincent." Catherine whispered, pushing herself into his arms again, looking up at his eyes. "Must we go through this all the time? I love, you, I want you, and I don't want anyone else." She said almost fiercely, her green eyes so sincere and earnest.

"Why?" Vincent couldn't help but ask. His voice was a little hoarse.

"Because your kind. Because you love me, and everyone else, with your entire being. Because you're strong. Because you're hardworking. Because you care. Because you're smart. Because of your respect. Because of your chivalry. And," she added the last part. "I love the way you look – and I haven't even listed half of the reasons I love you."

"And all of those 'good' things about me? What about all the bad?" Vincent asked, trying to prove his point.

"When I look at you, I don't see any bad." Catherine said truthfully, still almost fierce. "I see a man who struggles, just like every other person in the world. And what you struggle with has been deemed 'bad', but its not you. You are not bad, but what you struggle with is. And you know what? That's okay."

"Catherine!" Vincent broke their embrace and started pacing back and forth. "You do not understand!"

"I do not understand what?" Catherine asked.

"Look at me!" he said, nearing her once again, his eyes were blazing wildly. "And look at that!" he pointed to the claw marks on the wall. "And that!" he pointed to a corner filled with some somewhat recently smashed furniture. "You know what I am, what I can do, what I _will_ do!"

"And look at that." Catherine said quietly, pointing to a shelf of books. "And that." She pointed to a collection of dried flowers spread out on his table, collected over the years by children who tried to bring the world Above to him. "And this." She pulled a piece of broken glass up, showing him his reflection.

Vincent turned, not wanting to look at himself in the mirror, which he knew would stir up even more feelings. Instead, he sat down on a large chair and put his head in his hands.

"Oh, Vincent!" Catherine said softly, her eyes filling up with tears. She went over to the chair and carefully leaned against him. "What's wrong? Why are you beating yourself up so much lately? Please, talk to me."

Vincent looked at her squarely in the eyes. _The madness is likely brought on by harboring all these intense feelings, _he reminded himself. _Share them with her. Go ahead, share them with her!_

He took a deep breath. "Catherine," he said slowly.

"Yes?" she said, a bit uncertainly.

"As I have told you before, I do not feel… worthy enough for you." He chose his words carefully.

"You are more than worthy." She told him.

He held his hands up in surrender. "And every time I tell you that, you say the same thing. Look at me in the eyes," he instructed.

Catherine looked at him in the eyes. He was getting rather… what was the word for it? In control, having power over her, like the traditional husband and wife relationship? It was rather out of character for him, but his voice was so firm and stern that she couldn't help but obey his words.

"I am not fully human." He enunciated each word slowly and clearly, slicing her heart – and his own – with each syllable.

Catherine tried to turn away, tears in her eyes, but Vincent grabbed her arm to stop her. "I'm not finished." He said firmly, feeling like he was losing control once he finally had gotten up the courage to say what he felt like he needed to say. "I've wanted to say this for a long time, but haven't, hence the sickness. I _can't_ be yours Catherine, as you can't be mine. You must realize that, somewhere, deep in your heart. You have known these entire two years that we cannot be together. And why is that? It is because of me. Because I am who I am. If I could change that for you, I would. But I cannot."

"But our dream…" Catherine said, her tears threatening to spill over.

"That's just it." Vincent pounded the table in a bit of a rage. "It's just a dream, Catherine! A dream that will never happen!"

"But you said-"

"I've said a lot of things I shouldn't have said!" Vincent exclaimed.

Catherine stared at him wordlessly, until finally she spoke. "What's happening to you?" she asked, tears streaming down her cheeks. "You used to be normal. Yes, normal. You used to be my Vincent, the one I'd lie awake dreaming about at night. But ever since…"

"Ever since what?" he asked, his voice softening, feeling sorry for getting as carried away as he did.

"Never mind." Catherine turned to go, but Vincent grabbed her arm once again to stop her.

"Ever since _what_?" he asked, his voice still gentle.

"Ever since when I told you about me being pregnant." Catherine said truthfully, looking at him in the eyes, her tears ceasing to flow. "Things have been completely crazy since then. First, we go through all of this strife, trying to sort out the pregnancy, in which, of course, Meg comes, which starts to drive you crazy, it seems. So you break yourself over and over, since I suppose your angry at yourself for God knows why, so then you go off to try to sort things out by yourself, and then as soon as you come back, this pipe busts and now you want to what? Break off contact with me? Become 'just friends'? What is it that you want, Vincent?"

Vincent was speechless. He hadn't expected her to say _all_ that. But finally, he found the words. "Catherine," he tried.

"What?" Catherine said.

"I'm afraid." He admitted. "Of many, many things."

"Like what?" Catherine asked gently, a bit sorry for being so harsh.

"Of hurting you, of hurting myself." Vincent said. "And that is just for starters."

Catherine sighed. "You didn't really _hurt_ me, Vincent. And as for hurting yourself, with all due respect, that was your own fault. One does not try to move a boulder all by themselves-"

Vincent shook his head, as a sign that he wanted to speak. "Yes, I am afraid of hurting you physically, that is one of my fears. But it's not that kind of hurt I am speaking of now."

Catherine waited in silence for Vincent to find the words to say, as she knew he would. She wasn't quite sure what he wanted to say, but she hoped it would help solve problems.

"I am afraid of what will happen," Vincent confessed. "I know your heart; I know how you feel about me, and how I feel about you is… indescribable. And while I keep trying to tell myself that everything will end 'happily ever after', common sense tells me it's only a matter of time."

"A matter of time until what?" Catherine asked.

"Until we break apart." Vincent's voice broke.

Catherine's eyes filled with tears as she embraced the crying man in front of her. "Oh, that could never happen, Vincent – don't you know that?"

"My heart knows that, but it is simply not possible." Vincent said, tears streaming down his face. "Catherine, don't you see?"

"Perhaps I should stay down here for a few days." Catherine said thoughtfully. "So we can talk."

"No! That would be the worst thing, I'm sure of it!" Vincent exclaimed, getting up from the sturdy chair and beginning to pace again.

"Why would it be the worst thing?" Catherine asked. "Please Vincent! I can't understand unless you tell me!"

"If you moved Below, you would have to give up the life you are used to." Vincent said. "All the luxury, all of the advantages a life Above can give you, all the neon, the glamour and the lights!"

"And I'd do it in a heartbeat, if you'd let me." Catherine stated.

"And what if I would let you? Would you be able to make it the next fifty or more years, the rest of your life, without it?"

"So long as I have you, I'd be fine without anything else." Catherine spoke from her heart.

"That's not how I see it." Vincent said.

Catherine's eyes narrowed. "Are you trying to say that I prize possessions more over people?"

"No!" Vincent stopped in his tracks. "But if the time does come when you want to move back Above, or you fall out of love or in love with someone else, I don't want to be hurt! And what if you move down here just because you think I want you to? You would be miserable!"

"Vincent, don't you think if I were miserable, you would know it?" Catherine asked.

Vincent cocked his head. Now _that_ was a new thought.

"And don't you think that if I did something that I thought would make you happy, it would make be happy?" Catherine asked. "There's nothing I like more than making you happy. Seeing you like this… angry, frustrated, and sad… it tears me apart."

"And what would happen if you make a decision because of me, and then regret it later?" Vincent asked. "I cannot be held responsible for any unhappiness in your heart!"

"And you won't be." Catherine said. She let out a sigh. "Vincent, look; I'm a big girl and can make my own decisions. I've known about your world for quite some time now, and have been ready to live in it for almost that entire time. I'm pregnant with your child, and would actually like nothing more than to live down here. Even if you didn't live down here, I would probably still want to." Catherine smiled. "You could never make me unhappy, Vincent – except for when you are."

Vincent stared at her in the eyes. "Are you trying to say that you _want_ to give up your life Above?"

"Actually," Catherine laughed. "Meg was drilling me about it today and made me take a hard look at it, and I think I've come up with a good compromise for us."

Vincent's eyebrows rose. "I am intrigued…" he said slowly.

"Okay, so maybe I do move Below. I can still keep my job at the DA's office, right? I'd keep my apartment Above, of course, just in case. It could kind of be 'the best of both worlds' type of thing. And then, after awhile of that, I can decide whether to quit my job at the DA's and like Below full-time, or continue working there and move back Above. Or, of course, I could continue with the living Below and working at the DA's, but that could get a bit dangerous, don't you think?"

Vincent nodded slowly, thinking. Catherine could almost hear the gears moving in his head, putting thoughts together, trying to figure out what he thought was best.

_What should I say to her now? _Vincent wondered. _Should I say 'yes? Let's try that', like I should like to, or should I tell her 'no, that is not a good idea'. Hmm… as Father would tell me to ask myself, in light of my past experiences, current circumstances, and future hopes and dreams, what is the wise thing for me to do?_

_Well, my past experiences are that whenever Catherine is Below, my heart feels lighter. I am free from worrying about her, and I know that if she is not right next to me, she is somewhere nearby, safe and happy. And my current circumstances are, is that she is pregnant – with my baby, and she may need a place to stay for the first couple months, at least, after the baby is born, if the baby looks like me. And I love her, and right now, I would love for her to move Below. And my future hopes and dreams… that someday Catherine will move Below and we can have a true family together… dare I hope for a Joining Day? And we could always use an extra set of hands Below, and Catherine is a great help. And she can help teach the children when I am away. And her cheery smile and words of encouragement mean so much to everyone Below…_

"What do I think?" Vincent asked Catherine.

She nodded. "Now that you know I will not be unhappy, and you know in my heart that I truly do want to move Below, what do you think?"

"Well, I think that I love you." He said.

She could have melted right there. The words were like honey from his lips. How many times had he said that in the past two years? Very rarely, countable times to be sure.

"And," he continued. "I would have to speak with Father and the rest of the council about it."

"So, what do you think?" she pressed.

"And now may not be the opportune time, because the baby's chamber is not finished, and I am a bit tied up as it is, what with the busted pipe, and I am rather broken up, as you said. Besides, Mary would have to find the time to make the chamber livable once I am finished fleshing it out-"he enjoyed teasing her.

"Does that mean 'yes'?" Catherine could hardly bear the excitement.

"As I said before, I would have to speak to the council about it…" a smile played on Vincent's lips, a rare smile. For he didn't smile all too often – usually just for Catherine.

"All this excitement can not be good for the baby," she warned Vincent, knowing he would stop his monkey business right then and there in order to ensure the baby's safety.

"And I think you might be able to stay." He said. Catherine's tactic had worked.

Catherine shrieked with excitement. "Oh, Vincent! I love you!" she fell into his arms.

Vincent took a deep breath, having no control over his smile any longer. He was so happy. Catherine had made him snap out of it and made him realize that, no, she wouldn't be unhappy, and if she was even the slightest, he would know, wouldn't he? He she had chosen to best moment to ask him about moving Below; had she asked at any other time, he probably would have said a flat-out 'no'.

Catherine suddenly pulled back, staring at him strangely. "Vincent?" she said.

"Mmm?" Vincent answered.

"What's that sound?" she asked. There was a rumbling sound coming from somewhere.

"That's me." He said The rumbling sound stopped as soon as he spoke.

She gaped at him. "You're purring?"

He nodded and the ducked his head, extremely embarrassed.

But Catherine just laughed. "I like it." She said, laying her head against his chest again. "How come I've never heard it before?"

Vincent shrugged. "I do not know. I cannot make myself do it – it just happens when I'm happy, contented. Perhaps you're just not around – through whenever I'm happy you are usually involved." He added the last part quickly.

Catherine was so happy; tears were streaming down her face. "Oh, she said, fumbling with the ties on his clock. " You're so muddy – your clothes are probably ruined."

"I don't care." He whispered into her ear, tickling her. But she didn't seem to notice. She now had the cloak in her hands ad was examining the wool.

"I don't know how anyone is going to be able to clean this," she fretted. "Wool doesn't exactly wash that easily. Luckily you have another cloak, right?" she looked up into his eyes, waiting for him to respond.

He chuckled. "Playing house-mother already, are we Catherine?"

Catherine flushed. "But here we've been standing around, talking and fighting and-"

"Arguing and we were hardly arguing, more like debating." Vincent corrected, learning many years ago the vast different between fighting and arguing.

"Here were have been wasting time when you're a mess!" she ran her finger through the fur on his hand, where the dried mud stuck all the fur together. "How are you going to get this off?"

Vincent sighed, hating when things like that happened. "Before I get it wet would be best." He went over to the dresser and got his new comb off of there, one with _all_ of the teeth, and began gently working the mud from his fur, which caused the fur to get in a small, tight knot.

"Here, let me do it." Catherine said. She noticed Vincent's large calloused hand had trouble grasping the comb. She took the comb from him and gently began working the knot out.

"It is no use anyways," Vincent said, gently pulling away. "I'm covered."

That was true. Not only was he covered with dry mud, sticking all his fur together on hi hands and face, but he probably was everywhere else too.

Suddenly Vincent cocked his head. "Father is coming." He said.

Catherine listened carefully. "No, he's not." She said.

"Yes, he is." Vincent insisted. "I hear him."

Catherine was reminded of Vincent's keen hearing. "Well, what does it matter if he's coming?"

Quickly, Vincent pulled the cloak from Catherine and wrapped it around his shoulders. "He will think we're up to something." He said.

Catherine couldn't help but giggle. The circumstances were good for assuming that they were 'up to something', she had to admit. It's was nearly midnight, they were in his chamber alone, hardly inches apart, and his cloak was off, in her hands!

"Stop giggling!" Vincent ordered, but Catherine could tell by the twinkle in his eye that he saw the humor in the situation. "I will be the one who will have to obey and submit to the wrath of Father, not you!"

_The wrath of Father_. Those words made Catherine giggle even more. That sounded so much like a book or a movie title!

"_Shhh_!" Vincent hushed her as Father stepped into the chamber.

"Vincent? Catherine?" Father looked very surprised. "Catherine, what are you doing here? Vincent, why are you awake this time of night?"

Vincent was at a loss for words. The blank look on his face was so funny that Catherine couldn't help but giggle again. Vincent put his hand over Catherine's mouth to try to shush her, but his matted fur tickled her face and only made her laugh harder.

Father looked suspiciously over at Catherine, and then back at Vincent. He did a double-take at Vincent before he exclaimed, "Vincent, you're a muddy mess!"

Vincent nodded. "I know, Father."

"That mud will stick to your fur and we will have a devil of a time getting it out," Father said, coming over to Vincent, forgetting Catherine was in the room. "I asked you to tow mud, not bathe in it!"

"I know, Father." Vincent said, somewhat embarrassed that Father was making such a big deal over it in front of Catherine. "But-"

"Not 'buts'." Father said firmly. "Go get washed, and go straight to bed! Tomorrow, Mary and I will work the knots and mud out."

"Can I help?" Catherine piped up. She couldn't resist – the idea of working the mud and tangles off of Vincent's body sounded too good to pass up.

"No." Father gave her a little glare, realizing once again she was in the room.

"We are not finished with the clean-up process." Vincent reminded Father. "I will just get muddy again."

Father sighed. "But your fur-"

"I'll have to yank a comb through it and I will probably be covered with dry mud for a week, but it will be all right." Vincent said, not fretting over it, as Catherine was, and seeing the humor in it, though he knew all of his free time over the next week would be faced with the tedious combing.

Father sighed again. "All right." He said. He turned to leave. "Vincent, go wash up. Catherine," he turned. "Go home." He added.

Catherine nodded. "Yes, Father." As soon as Father was out of the room, she was in a hopeless fit of giggles again.

"'Can I help'?" Vincent questioned. "Why did you ask such a thing?"

"'Cause I'd want to." Catherine said. "And it'd be work I can do while sitting down since I'm in such… delicate condition." She pointed out, knowing that Vincent hated it for her to do heavy labor while pregnant.

"Go home," Vincent chuckled. "I shall see you tomorrow evening, perhaps? For supper?"

Catherine shook her head. "Depends. Are you going to spend your day in the mud or getting your fur combed?"

"In the mud, more than likely." He said. "Why are you so eager to comb me out for?"

"No particular reason." She laughed. She gave him a goodbye hug. "I'll see you tomorrow." And with that, she left to go find Meg.

Once she found Meg, Meg turned to her quizzically as they headed towards the basement of Catherine's apartment. "What did you two talk about?"

"Life, love, how we feel about things, and things may turn out quite pleasant." Catherine teased.

"What?" Meg asked.

"Vincent wants me to move Below too; depends on what the council says." Catherine squealed with delight.

"Great!" Meg exclaimed, happy for her cousin. "When?"

"As soon as the mud is cleaned up, the council agrees, and Vincent finishes the baby's chamber. That will serve as my room as well." Catherine explained.

Meg's face fell. "Man, I was hoping you two would share a chamber."

Catherine slugged Meg playfully. "One step at a time, jeez!"

As they walked on further, Catherine told her cousin of the Father incident, of when Father came in and what fun it had been to be in the position.

"That's a good question." Meg said once Catherine was finished telling her the story. They were just now below her basement. "Why were you so eager to comb out his fur? No offense, but you might as well go brush out a dog – it'd be the same experience, wouldn't it?"

"Would not." Catherine argued, sitting down in Mouse's contraption.

"How would it be much different?" Meg wanted to know.

"Well, a dog isn't sleek, strong, muscled and-"

"I get the picture." Meg laughed. "Pretending you want to help him for your own viewing pleasure. I get it."

"Well, I want to help." Catherine said honestly. "But your right; the view wouldn't be half bad either!"


	20. Chapter 20

20  
**Authors Note: This chapter is ultra-long, with about 14,500 words. I just didn't feel the urge to put it into shorter chapters, so here you go. This was written on a bad case of writers block, probably about 2,000 words a week (compared to my normal 15,000 words a week). Just bear with me in this chapter, please, and as always, thanks for your wonderful reviews and your kindness! It's what helps me get over these crazy humps we call writers block.**

"Joe, can we talk?" Catherine stepped into Joe's office and shut the door behind her.

Joe looked up, twiddling a pencil in his hand. "You have a tongue; go ahead."

It was the next day, Tuesday. Meg went Below to help deal with the mud catastrophe while Catherine went to the District Attorney's office, to talk to Joe about something she finally had gotten the guts up to discuss.

She went over to his desk and leaned against it with her palms. "What if I told you something crazy?"

"I'd tell you that there's a really good asylum no further than twenty minutes from here, and I happen to know that they have a room available, with a real nice window view. For the past twenty years, my great-Aunt-Jean has been occupying that room, of course, but-"

"Joe!" Catherine exclaimed. "I'm serious!"

He looked at her carefully in the eyes. "You okay, Radcliffe?"

She sighed, pushing back a strand of hair behind her ear. "What would you do if I told you something crazy?" she repeated.

Joe chewed on the end of his pencil. "How crazy are we talkin' here, Radcliffe?"

"I don't know…" Catherine tried to think up a word before she lost her guts altogether. "Like I told you some fairy-tale."

"Which one?" Joe asked. "_Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs_?_ Alice in Wonderland_?_ Beauty and the_-"

"Does it matter?" Catherine asked, exasperated.

"How am I supposed to know?" Joe held his hands up in frustration. "What do you want?"

Catherine sighed. "I know you're a little ticked off because I've been taking so much time off lately."

"That is actually one of many reasons, but continue," Joe said in a monotone voice.

"Well, I've come to talk about my maternity leave." Catherine said, sitting in the chair across from him.

"Oh, not now Radcliffe!" Joe whined. "I've got something for you to work on!"

"No, not now." Catherine said with a thin smile. Was it her fault that Joe Maxwell was such a baby? "But soon." She added.

"How soon?" Joe asked. "Seriously, Radcliffe – you've been taking too much time off lately. Moreno is gonna have a fit."

"This is why I want to talk to you." Catherine said. "Because I'm about to tell you something crazy."

"Spit it out!"

"Well," Catherine said slowly. "The baby I'm having. This pregnancy is very… unpredictable, shall we say? All I'm asking is to take late October and all of November and December off, and come back in January, and until then, I want to be put on files, and getting cases ready. None of the dangerous stuff."

"But Cathy!" Joe whined. "This case I'm tryin' to put you on-"

"Not 'buts'." Catherine said firmly. "I'm depending on you to convince Moreno to let me have this time off, if not, more. This baby is depending on you. This baby's father and his family are all depending on you. No pressure or anything."

Joe groaned. "Cathy, don't you know by now that whenever someone says 'no pressure', it usually adds pressure? Who is this baby's daddy anyways? I thought we were friends. You want me to do all of this stuff for you, but you won't even give me the guy's name!"

Catherine hesitated. "His name is Vincent. He's about thirty-seven, strong, loving, caring and patient."

"I had that figured." Joe said. "He's gotta be patient to sit through those orchestras and ballets you like to go to."

Catherine playfully slugged him. "I just can't talk much about him now, Joe." She said, turning to go.

"Hey, what was the crazy thing you were going to tell me?" Joe asked.

She turned. "Another time, Mr. Maxwell." And with that, she left.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"Have you any idea where Catherine has gone to?" Vincent asked Meg as he picked up a bucket of mud and passed it to the man beside him. Meg was filling up the buckets with mud, with the other women and children.

Meg shook her head. "No. She said something about stopping at the DA's – I think she wanted to talk with her boss." She looked up at the strong leonine figure standing a few feet away from her. "She's a workaholic – you'd better keep your eyes on that one."

Vincent nodded. "I intend to." He handed her an empty bucket to refill with mud.

Meg wiped the sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand. "Whew, this is some hot, sweaty work. How often do these pipes bust like this?"

"Not often." Was Vincent's reply. "The pipe was very old and no longer maintained by the city, as most of the pipes are here Below. We do our best to keep them repaired, but this one had a mind of its own, I suppose."

Suddenly a little girl ran up to Vincent and buried her head in his stomach, crying.

Shooting Meg a quizzical look, Vincent knelt down to the child. "What is it, Maria? What is wrong?"

"Kipper threw mud at me, Vincent!" the little girl cried.

Vincent nodded sympathetically. "Boys are like that."

"Why, Vincent?" the girl sobbed.

Vincent sighed. "I don't know, Maria; I do not know. I suppose it makes them feel tough and mean, it makes them feel like men, but they aren't acting like men, are they?"

She shook her head. "Kipper's just a mean boy!"

Vincent chuckled. "Sometimes, he does mean things, but he's not all that bad." He took a handkerchief out of his pocket and held it up to her nose. "Blow." He instructed. Once she blew her nose, he used the rest of the handkerchief to clean the mud off her cheek, where Kipper had thrown the mud. "There, all better. Would you like to be my partner?"

Maria's bright brown eyes opened wide. "Really, what can I do?"

"Why don't you help Meg fill those buckets for me?" he asked.

"That's not being your partner." She pouted.

"Yes, it is." Vincent insisted. "The more you help Meg, the faster we get done. And I should like to get down as quickly as possible, so we might have some reading time tonight."

"Just you and me?" Maria asked, remembering the time she was sick and Vincent came to read just to her, and not with the other children.

Vincent nodded. "Though perhaps Catherine and Meg would like to come and listen, as well."

Maria thought this over. "Can I sit in your lap?" she asked finally.

Vincent nodded his consent. "Yes, but we may not get to today." He warned. "It depends how soon we're done working here."

Maria nodded. "Okay then, I'll help." And with that, she knelt down by the bucket and began scooping the mud in with her bare hands.

"Ugh," Meg said, seeing the child's muddy hands. "Are you sure you don't want gloves?"

"I'm sure." The little girl said, scooping more mud in.

Meg smiled as she and the girl worked together. The little girl was a little short and really thin, but she was a hard, quick, worker. She had pale skin, brown eyes, silky brown hair that had never been cut, and a shining smile. She seemed to be a very happy little girl.

"How old are you, Maria?" Meg tried to make conversation.

"Eleven." Maria replied, still using her hands to scoop the mud.

"Eleven?" Mg was surprised. She would have guessed eight or nine by the child's size.

"Yes." Maria answered. "How old are you?"

Meg laughed, and she was certain she could hear Vincent chuckling as Vincent passed off buckets up the assembly line. "Well, Maria, that's a question that one must never ask a lady."

"Oh." Maria said, not stopping once. "I guess you must be pretty old."

Meg laughed much harder. "Well, actually, I'm thirty-four. That's not too old, is it?"

Maria hesitated, thinking. "Well, how old is Father?"

"Sixty-six and three quarters." They heard the gruff voice of the older man behind them.

"Father!" Maria exclaimed, getting back to work. "I didn't see you there!" she turned to Meg. "Well, you're not as old as Father."

"So you are only a little old." Vincent told Meg with a slight chuckle.

"Well," Meg said with mock arrogance. "How rude!"

"Vincent isn't rude!" Maria exclaimed. "He's the politest person I know."

"She was just teasing, little one." Father told the young girl. "I came to check on how things were going down here."

"Everything is good." Vincent said with a nod. "I think if we keep at it, we might have a majority of the mud in the abyss by supper."

"That is very good." Father said approvingly. "Very good."

"But you might want to speak with Kipper." Vincent noted, glancing to where the boy was taunting another child.

"Well, what did Kipper do?" Father asked.

"He threw mud at me!" Maria exclaimed.

"I see." Father said. "And what were you doing to make him throw mud at you, Maria?"

"Nothing, Father!" Vincent said in the young girl's defense.

Father looked at Vincent critically. "The last time I checked, son, your name was not Maria."

Vincent ducked his head while Meg held in a giggle. She could tell that Vincent and the little girl, Maria, were very close.

Father looked at Maria. "Were you doing anything to antagonize Kipper, Maria?"

Maria shook her head. "He was 'taganizing me!" she insisted.

"You hear, Father?" Vincent agreed with the girl. "He was ''taganizing' her!"

"Vincent, you are a grown man, almost a father, and are carrying enough weight on your shoulders as it is." Father criticized his son. "I think it is about time to start acting grown-up."

"I do." Vincent said seriously. "But there is no harm in a little fun, right Maria?" he pulled a lock of the young girl's hair playfully.

Father sighed. That was true; his son did have enough weight on his shoulders as it was, and he usually acted too serious for his own good. Perhaps a bit of monkey business was good for Vincent.

"All right," Father said finally. "Be a clangering bloke as much as you should like, just do not let it interfere with your work. Understand?"

"_Je comprends_." Vincent replied, picking up an empty bucket and handing it to Maria.

Father again sighed. "Let us hope that means 'yes Father'." And with that, he limped away to see that work was going well elsewhere.

Meg raised her eyebrows. "I don't know all that much about you, Vincent, but 'humorous' was not one of Catherine's many describing words."

He shrugged. "I heard once that 'when the road gets bumpy, just smile'. I have had enough to worry about these past several weeks – might as well get some laughter in." he looked down at Maria, who was completely absorbed into playing with playing in the mud. "Besides, Maria needs as much humor as she can around her. She has had a pretty hard life – a couple of smiles won't hurt her."

"It seems to me that she smiles all the time." Meg commented.

"She does now." Vincent said. "Below has been a haven for her, where she can have no worries. Below, she can be the little girl God intended her to be."

Meg studied Vincent. "Why do you care so much?

"Because each person is someone, and is living for some reason." Vincent said. "And no one has ever gotten ill from being nurtured and loved. On the contrary, they have blossomed into wonderful, successful, caring people."

"What do you think Maria will be doing ten years from now?" Meg asked him.

"Harvard, if the people there are smart enough to see her potential let her in." Vincent said. "Or perhaps she will have a husband, and children. I think she will stay Below for many years yet; Above is still to painful to return to for her."

"Do you ever wish you could go Above more often?" Meg couldn't help but ask. "Don't you ever feel trapped, as if you're missing out on something wonderful?"

Vincent was quiet for several moments. Meg was sure he heard that question, but got the idea that he might not want to discuss it. "Oh, it was a rude question; you don't have to answer me if you don't want to." She said quickly, returning to feverishly scooping mud into the bucket, which was already full.

"It is all right." He assured her, picking up the bucket and passing it down the line. "I do not mind it. Yes, there are some times that I wish I was like a normal man, that I could go Above without a care. But then I am reminded of my life Below, of all the things that make my life wonderful, of what men Above don't have. And I think of Catherine. And then, being me does not seem so bad."

"Once, when I was a boy, my brother Devin and I, along with a couple other children, had our own miniature escapade." Vincent continued. "We went out to Central Park, where there used to be this big carousel. It was very big, as I recall, and it was painted the brightest colors that I had ever seen." He shook his head. "Then again, I was only a boy, and Below cannot exactly be described as 'colorful', at least until Elizabeth came along."

"Who is Elizabeth?" Meg asked, curious.

"A woman who came Below years ago." Vincent said. "I must have been about sixteen, seventeen, certainly no older than twenty-five. She came here to paint. She paints the Tunnels that are too close to Above for our liking."

"What does she paint?" Meg asked. She enjoyed painting herself.

"Our story." Was Vincent's reply.

"Your story?" Meg was mystified.

"Yes." Vincent nodded. "When she first came Below, some of us would come visit her, and keep her company while she worked. " We would tell her stories of what happened Below, and she would paint them on the walls."

"Wow – are the walls still there?" Meg asked.

Vincent nodded. "Yes, and Elizabeth is still there as well."

"Doing what?"

"Still painting." Vincent answered, handing her an empty bucket that had just been passed to him. "Painting our lives as they are lived. Father's life, Mary's life, my life, William's life, Winslow's life, Jamie's life, Mouse's life, and even Devin's life; all of us, and more, have had our stories told on that wall."

"What stories of yours has she told?" Meg asked.

"Some of them. There is a painting of when I first came to live Below."

"When was that? I think you told me once, but I can't remember what you said." Meg said.

"I was an infant, no more than a few days old, more likely only hours old. A Helper of ours, that is, someone Above who knows about our world and who gives us aid when we need it, found me. She was nearly blind, nearly deaf, and had long lost her sense of smell, but she still was able to bring me to Father, without anyone else Above knowing."

"So you told me!" Meg said. "Now I remember. Someone abandoned you?"

"Yes." Was Vincent's response.

"Who? And why?" Meg asked. "Tell me if I'm asking too personal questions."

"I will tell you if you do." Vincent responded. "We do not know how my existence came about. It is something we have been wondering about my entire life. We also do not know who abandoned me or the reasons why, but it is pretty obvious, don't you think?"

Meg nodded. "You mean you've always looked this way?"

Vincent raised his eyebrows in surprise. "You didn't know that?"

"N-No, I'm afraid I didn't." she confessed.

He sighed. "Yes, when Anna, our Helper, found me, I looked the same as I do now – only much, much, much smaller." He added the last part with a bit of humor.

"B-B-But your all human, right?" she asked quickly, before she lost her nerve. Her face flushed in embarrassment, which Vincent, of course, noticed.

"It is all right; I have wondered it myself." He said.

"But for someone else to ask you must be-"she began.

"Normal." He finished. "For someone else to ask me if I am human is completely normal and understandable. And my answer is 'I do not know'. Father and Dr. Peter have found out as much as they can about who or what I am. To find out any more, they would have to run experiments, and to be ran experiments on like an animal…" the last words were to his self, clearly forgetting that anyone was listening to what he was saying.

Meg shook her head sympathetically. "I'd like to say that I understand your predicament but-"

"Let us be joyful that you do not understand my predicament." Vincent said. "It is a horrible thing to fear something as simple as another human being… or nearly every other human being alive, for that matter."

"If you were to spend a day Above, what would you do?" Meg asked.

Vincent obviously had the answer right away, because he didn't take even a beat to think. "I would spend it with Catherine." He said.

"Well, of course you can do that." Meg laughed. "But what would you _do_?"

"What would I do?" Vincent repeated.

"Yes; what would you do?" Meg asked.

Maria had obviously heard the latter part of the conversation and broke in. "You don't want to go Above, Vincent; it's not fun."

"Isn't it?" Vincent asked the young girl. Meg thought he was just trying to make conversation with her, but carefully studying his eyes and tone of voice, she could tell that he really wanted to know what Maria had to say.

"No, it's not fun at all." Maria stated as if her opinion was a fact. "Below is much more fun!"

"Well, what makes Below more fun than Above?" Vincent asked.

Maria thought for a moment. "Everyone is nice here." She said. "Remember that time we went camping?"

Vincent nodded, and then turned to Meg to elaborate. "Last year, Maria and I went on a camping trip to celebrate her turning eleven."

"Yes, I remember the camping trip," he said to Maria. "What about it?"

"Well, when new came back, remember how everyone hugged us and said they missed us, even though we were only gone two days. Above, no one would even notice, and if they did, they wouldn't care." Maria answered.

"Now that's not true." Meg couldn't help but intervene. "Some people Above are really nice. Catherine is from Above; isn't she nice?"

Maria thought this over. "Well, she's different." She returned to her scooping the mud – and playing in it.

Vincent shrugged. "She is just a child, and her view of Above is rather… biased, shall we say? And I cannot be sure, naturally, but I think she may just have something there."

"Your world is smaller, and more personable." Meg reasoned. "For example, when someone dies Above, the people who knew the person mourns, then we bury the person, and the pain gets less heavy over time."

"But here, our world is so small; each person is so precious, that a death is a bigger event." Vincent replied. "Our worlds are very different, Meg. Here, love is unconditional, we have no currency, and are a true family – our entire world treats one another as if we were one family."

Meg shook her head. "It just doesn't seem to make any sense."

"What does not make sense?" Vincent asked.

"How there can be a world under the ground that no one knows about." Meg said. "Such a wonderful little world – it's too bad everyone can't live here."

Vincent turned and looked her sharply in the eyes. "You won't tell anyone, will you?"

"No!" Meg said quickly. "No, I won't. I was just saying-"

"If everyone lived Below, I would have to move Above." Vincent reminded her. "There is no place for me amongst regular people."

"Now that may have been true not too long ago, but we're about to head into the 1990's." Meg reasoned. "In just the few days I've been here, I've seen a lot stranger looking guys than you. No offense." She added quickly.

Vincent nodded. "I hear you. And while it seems that now I could go Above, the risk is too great." He said.

"There was this guy who was best friends with my older brother." Meg said. "He was covered, absolutely _covered_ with hair, head to toe. I always thought it was really nasty, but the girls liked it."

Vincent raised his eyebrows. "Really?"

"Really." Meg said. "He was six years older than us, but I always thought Catherine crushed on him. And now, seeing who she picked out… I'm now certain that she secretly liked that guy." She caught herself. "No offense, intended, Vincent. I'm sorry – I've got such a big mouth and-"

"No apologies necessary." Vincent assured her. "I am what I am, and no amount of apologies will chance that."

Meg was quiet for a moment, thinking over what Vincent just said. It sounded like he really wasn't ashamed of his looks, like she thought he would be. It seemed that he had something against how he looked, and she couldn't blame him. She wondered what he thought about the baby's arrival, about what it might look and be like, but she couldn't think of a tactful way to bring it up, so she just left the topic untouched.

"You know," Meg said after a moment. "You haven't finished telling me stories; what other stories has Elizabeth painted on the walls?"

"What type of story would you like?" Vincent asked. "There is nearly every kind of genre you can think of, in forty years."

Meg thought for a moment, her mind reeling with the possibilities. Finally, she just shrugged. "Tell me any stories that can help me get to know your world, and the people in your world, better."

Vincent gave an inaudible sigh of relief. He was worried there for a second that she might ask for a romantic story, which is one he felt he couldn't give. It would be rather embarrassing – he would save those for the gossip-hungry women to tell her, which he knew they certainly would. He couldn't help but smile as he thought of all the women that were like family to him; like mothers, like sisters, like cousins. And then there was Maria, no where near being called a 'woman' yet, but still, when he imagined what it was like to have children, how he felt about Maria couldn't be too far from it.

_That is right! _Vincent remembered. _Catherine wanted me to speak with Maria about the baby, that the baby is not a replacement for her in my heart, but the forming of a small family, within our large one. I must inform her that she will always be welcome for a hug or a story anytime she needs one._

Suddenly Vincent realized that Meg, and apparently Maria and a few other people who were standing nearby, were waiting for him to tell a story of Below. So quickly, he thought of an event that happened somewhat recently, and began retelling it.

"Once, while Mouse was exploring, he found a sunken ship…"

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"Yo, Radcliffe, wait up!" Joe said, jogging down the stairs after her.

Catherine turned to wait for the man. She had come into work today out of sheer boredom, but was still intending on taking the rest of the week off.

"Whew." Joe said after he caught up with her and began walking. He wiped the sweat off his brow. "That is some stairwell. I should tone up a bit."

"No comment." Catherine couldn't help but say. She loved to say that and leave people wondering what she wanted to say, even though often times she really didn't have a clever comeback.

"So, where are you going?" Joe asked as they walked out the door. "If you're not busy, you can go out to dinner with me."

"What's the occasion?" Catherine asked.

"My step-sister arranged for us to go out-to-eat tonight," Joe said, sounding like he really did not want to go. "Maybe if you're with me, you can help me survive the night."

Catherine raised her eyebrows. "That bad, eh?"

"Worse." Joe groaned. "So, you up to it?"

Catherine shook her head. "I already have a dinner date, I'm afraid."

"With your man?" Joe teased. "What's his name? Victor, Vince, Vinnie…"

"Vincent." She reminded him. "And yes, it is with him."

"Ooh." Joe said, a smile creeping over his face.

"It's nothing." Catherine said quickly. "We're just having dinner with his family."

"Meeting the folks?" Joe groaned. "Poor girl, Cathy; you know the folks never like the girlfriend."

"I already know 'the folks'." Catherine retorted. "And for your information…"

"What?" Joe asked, now a bit concerned.

Catherine took a deep breath. It was either now or never. "Uh, Joe? What if I told you that my… that Vincent was different?"

"Define different."

"Different than any person you've ever seen before." Catherine said.

Joe looked a tad bit uneasy. "You feelin' okay, Radcliffe? Having second thoughts?"

"No!" Catherine said quickly. "It's just, out of convenience for my job, I need you to know, to be on my side, because with all the time off I'm going to be taking, and any more… strange things that should happen in the future…"

"Okay, Cathy, now start at the beginning." Joe instructed her, weaving their way past a hot dog vendor.

Catherine took a deep breath. "If someone attempts to kill you, so you fight back and end up killing them, that isn't murder, is it? It's self-defense, right?"

Joe nodded, wondering where this conversation was going. "You know that. Why do you ask?"

"Now if someone was trying to kill you, for example," Catherine said. "And then all of a sudden, a stranger, with absolutely no license to kill, jumped in and rescued you by killing the person, is that wrong? Is it murder?"

Joe thought. "Perhaps. It probably would be taken into consideration in the court." He eyed Catherine carefully. "Radcliffe, you in some kind of trouble?"

She shook her head. "But promise you won't arrest Vincent?"

"Is he in some kind of trouble?"

"No." Catherine said quickly. "Not at all. But he has, er, killed several people, in my defense. If it hadn't been for him, I'd long be dead."

Joe looked at her hard. "You sure you want to be telling me this, Radcliffe?"

She nodded. "Joe, just hear me out; Vincent looks and is completely different, far beyond your imagination – ever. And he lives in a completely different world. And me telling you this is very risky for him, but the reason I'm telling you is because I trust you, understand?"

Joe sighed. "Sounds like he's trouble, but yeah, I'm listening."

"He's so different that he has to literally hide." Catherine said. "Otherwise he'd be killed, for sure."

Joe sounded a bit impressed. "What is he, purple?"

"No." Catherine said. "But he's got some other… strange features. If I tell you, promise you won't tell?"

Joe nodded, so Catherine continued.

"A lot of… leonine features, shall we say?" she chose her words carefully, imagining that Vincent could hear their conversation. She wanted to word it perfectly so that no humiliation or embarrassment should come to Vincent, and so that Joe would not get the wrong idea.

"Leonine…" Joe said slowly. "As in, like a lion?"

Catherine nodded. "But only on the outside. On the inside, he has a heart of gold. Better than gold. He's just so indescribable that-"

Joe stopped dead in his tracks. "Radcliffe, you feelin' okay?"

She sighed. "I feel _fine_, Joe. Now if you'd just listen to me-"

"Maybe some time off is good for you." Joe said. "Or maybe it isn't." he added, recalling the large amount of time off she had had recently.

She again sighed. "Joe, I'm not crazy, if that's what you mean. I'm perfectly sane – just a little confused, and I need your help to help me cover for all of my large leaves and other… things." She tried to smile. "Moreno is probably having a fit about my time off right now."

Joe shook his head. "Catherine, didn't you say your cousin was in town?"

Catherine nodded. "Why?"

"Because I… I'd like to meet her." Joe said, hurrying Catherine into her apartment building and into the elevator.

"You'd like to talk to her, to ask her if I've been getting enough fresh air lately, aren't you?" Catherine's eyes twinkled. "You don't believe me, do you Joe?"

Joe couldn't help but shudder. What had come over her? She was officially freaking him out now.

The elevator dinged, signaling that they had arrived on the eighteenth floor. Joe and she quickly made their way out of the elevator, but silently, thinking about how they were going to word their next phrases.

_Catherine has completely lost her mind. Beans gone, marbles spilled, or whatever people say. She's lost it! _Joe thought, his heart thudding. _A man who looks like a lion? Jeez, Catherine! You were such a good Assistant DA – I'm gonna miss having you at work._

While Joe was mourning what he thought we be the certain loss of Catherine at the DA's, Catherine's thoughts were reeling too.

_He actually thinks I'm insane! _Catherine realized. _He's not joking around anymore; he's serious. Earlier, when I tried to tell him of Vincent, he mentioned a mental hospital, but he was just joking, right? He wouldn't really see that I was locked up in there, would he?_

Together they stepped into the apartment without knocking. The door was unlocked, Meg sitting on the cough, relaxing.

"Catherine!" Meg exclaimed, jumping off the couch to greet her cousin. "How was your day" So much progress was made! It's gotten to the point where the mess is…" her voice trailed, noticing Joe and his worried expression. "Catherine, who is this man?" she asked Catherine. "Is something wrong?"

Catherine sighed. "Meg this is Joe Maxwell. Joe, meet my cousin, Meg."

Meg and Joe shook hands, exchanging all the polite 'very nice to meet you' and things like that. "Is something wrong?" Meg asked.

Catherine shook her head. "I-I tried to tell him of Vincent, and now he thinks I'm crazy."

Meg stared, dumbfounded. "Telling him? You told him without even discussing it with Vincent?"

"Well, _someone_ had to know." Catherine pointed out. "All my leaves and 'disappearances' had to be covered up by someone at work, and Joe was the key person."

"But remember what you told me?" Meg asked. "Each person knowing jeopardizes Vincent's safety and-"

"Does anyone remember that I'm still in the room?" Joe asked in monotone.

The women ignored him, still talking. "I know Vincent would be in danger if word got out," Catherine said. "But I love him and I know Joe; once Joe believes me," she glanced at him, "If ever, he'll keep it a secret, I promise."

"Does he believe you?" Meg asked.

"No." Catherine shook her head. "He thinks I'm downright insane."

"I would have to, had I not seen him before you told me." Meg said. "Maybe he should meet him."

Catherine looked doubtful. "Are you sure? Vincent's gone through enough of meeting people, enough stress and antagonizing himself this past week – does he really need to meet someone new, out of all people, Joe?"

"It won't be so bad, if Joe promises not to arrest him or anything." Meg said.

"Hey, hey, slow down here." Joe said. "I was having a hard enough time following the conversation, but now what's this? Why would I need to arrest your boyfriend, Catherine?"

Catherine sighed, searching for the words. "If a man who, supposedly did look like a lion, went walking down the streets of New York, what do you think would happen?"

Joe hesitated. "Is this a trick question?"

"No." Catherine said. "Answer it."

"People would probably just stare a bit." Joe said. "After all, it is the Big Apple."

"But what if they knew that he really and truly looked like that?" Catherine persisted. "That he hadn't gone any surgeries to make himself look like that, that he was born the way he was?"

"That's hardly a felony." Joe scoffed, remembering them mentioning Vincent's possible arrest.

"No, its not, but its enough to be killed." Catherine said. "Enough to be taken in for experimentation or to the zoo."

"What Catherine is trying to say is that Vincent is different." Meg said. "She knows it sounds corny, crazy, whacked-out, and completely off the wall, but it's true. Catherine, Vincent, and his family have every reason to believe that he would be killed if found walking on the New York streets. That's why he spends his entire life at home, never venturing outside unless at night, and then only if necessary."

"Are you married, Mr. Maxwell?" Meg asked him.

Joe raised his eyebrows, taken aback. "What? Did we just, like, chance subjects or-"

"No, not really." Was Meg's reply. "So are you married?"

Joe shook his head. "No – you offering?" he couldn't help but joke in the most awkward situations.

She firmly shook her head. "Nope. Sorry. You seem like a nice guy and all but, I'm taken. Do you have a lady love, Mr. Maxwell?"

"Please, call me Joe." Joe told her.

"Fine then." Meg said. "Do you have a lady love, Joe? Someone special?"

Joe fidgeted. "Er, no. Don't you think one ought to get to know another before exchanging such questions and answers?"

"We haven't got time for any formalities." Meg stated. "I came all the way form Indiana to help Catherine by dealing with people like you, and I haven't a moment to waste. Suppose you did have a lady love. If she was in danger, what would you do?"

"It depends on the predicament." Joe said. "Are we at a party, out for dinner, at home relaxing?"

"It doesn't matter." Meg said with a fly of her hand. "If someone was trying to kill the women you love, or harm her in any way, what would you do?"

"Have them put away forever." Joe stated.

"But what would you do right then? Right when this event was taking place?"

"I certainly wouldn't let the attacker win." Joe said. "I-I'd kill him before it came to that."

"And is that wrong?" Meg asked.

Joe shook his head. "It could be taken as self-defense in the court of law – why?"

Meg took a deep breath. "Because Catherine would have been dead ages ago had it not been for Vincent. So many times, she's been near death that he saved her at the last minute, sometimes killing the attacker. Is Vincent a murderer? He wouldn't have done it, only someone else's life was at stake, someone he loved, and someone innocent."

"But again, Vincent's life must be kept a secret, for his sake, for his family's sake, for Catherine's baby's sake, and for Catherine's sake." Meg said, easing Joe out the door. "Goodnight, Joe."

Before she could shut the door, Joe wedged his foot in. "What? Just like that? You just told me to go? Without even checking if I believe you or if I'll tell anyone or-"

"Do what you think is right, Joe." Meg said firmly. "But before you make up your mind on whether to believe us or not, or on whether you want to tell anyone or not, I'd have to ask myself some things."

"What things?"

"Whether I value Catherine's friendship or not, whether I value her work at the DA's office or not, I would wonder 'would she lie about something like this'." Meg said. "You have countless people counting on you, Joe, countless. Counting on you to believe Catherine and take whatever steps are necessary to help keep Vincent a secret, to help Catherine keep her job at the DA's, et cetera. Go home and chew on that for awhile. Sleep on it. Catherine will be back to work a week from today – tell her what you came up with then." And with that, she shut the door on his face.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"Stay still or I'll end up pulling it out!" Mary commanded. It was the next morning.

Vincent sighed, putting his head in his hands. "Mary, we have been at this for an hour. Perhaps it is time to call it a night?"

"It's only eight 'clock and we've barely made any progress at all." Mary said, gently but firmly pulling a comb through strands of Vincent's hair, working out knots and stuck mud. "Quitting is hardly an option, unless you would like to have it all shaved off."

Vincent ducked his head. As much as he hated looking different then other men, being covered with fur, having it shaved off would only be worse.

"Stop your fidgeting like a child!" Mary demanded, frustrated "Really, Vincent!"

"I am sorry, Mary." Vincent said. "I suppose my mind is on other things right now."

"How about keeping it blank?" Mary suggested, concentrating on undoing a knot. "You've been hard at work for two days straight, with hardly any rest. The more alert you are, the harder it is for me to work at this for you. Would you rather Father do it?"

Vincent shook his head, knowing Father would manage to worm any possible lecture into the situation. A busted pipe never made Father exactly happy, especially when a nearly impossible all-over combing was in order to relieve Vincent of dry, stuck, itchy mud.

"You have been working hard too, Mary." Vincent reminded his mother-figure. "You should rest too – I can work on this myself."

"What do you have, eyes on the back of your head?" Mary said crossly as she worked more knots.

Gently Vincent pulled her hand away from his head. "Go on and get some rest," he encouraged her. "I will work out what knots and mud I can reach tonight, and we will start anew in the morning."

Mary nodded, giving in. "If you insist. But if Father complains, do not send him to me!" she called on her way out the chamber.

Vincent again sighed, looking over his hands critically. There was still mud sticking fur together, making his hands look terrible and itch something terrible as well. Quickly he began trying to work to mud out with the comb, his mind wandering to other things.

_Catherine is very stressed out_, Vincent knew. _But she is home, and Meg is with her. She is fine._

Vincent shook his head. How all mothers – and fathers – had managed to get through pregnancy was beyond him. The women had it so rough, trying to manage hormones, normal life, and the baby concerns. And the men, trying to keep the women calm, try to have their lives as normal as possible. The men were concerned for the baby as well, only Vincent and Catherine had ten times the more reason to be concerned, and most men didn't have to feel what the women was feeling.

Vincent sighed. The baby. How were he and Catherine going to manage a baby? How were they possibly going to be able to take care of another human being, being perfectly responsible for everything about that child, when they could hardly take care of themselves?

Now that wasn't exactly true, and Vincent knew that. The were both grown adults and were perfectly capable of taking care of themselves. But with Catherine's job causing so much danger for her, and all of Below's peril and Vincent unusual circumstances, sometimes it seemed like that, that they couldn't take care of themselves.

_Is that what the baby's life will be like? _Vincent couldn't help but wonder as he pulled the comb absentmindedly through his fur. _Full of danger and peril, never feeling safe? No! He or she will live Below, and below is a refuge, where one should feel perfectly safe. And people do. You do. You have no concerns or fear of what could happen to you Below, for you know that no one will hurt you, that nothing would hurt you unless some perfectly natural disaster happened. Any fears I have in my life are strictly for others, or fear of Above._

_Not fear of Above, _he corrected himself. _Fear of the crazy things people Above do. Fear of what would happen if they found out about you._

Vincent shuddered, remembering the time he had been found out by a Columbia University student. He had been locked in a cage, deprived of food and water, pocked and prodded at endlessly. It had been frightening, horrifying, annoying, humiliating, tiring, and more. He hadn't been there very long before Catherine came to the rescue, the way he always did for her, but it seemed like a long time to him. Every time he thought of those bars...

He shuddered, not daring to even think of what could have happened to him, had Catherine not come. He didn't want to think about where he would be, what he would be doing. It was to horrifying and degrading to think about, and it certainly didn't lift his mood any.

He sighed. His mood being lifted was exactly what he needed. It all made sense, the madness coming from all the stress, guilt, shame, pressures. It made perfect sense that a bit of humor, a bit of childish behavior, that even a bit more smiling and laughing for no reason would be not only for his benefit, but for everyone else's. If he didn't go mad, things would go a lot smoother, definitely.

_Besides, the last thing the baby needs is a father that is out of his mind, _Vincent continued to talk to himself.

The word sent shivers up his spine. Father? He was going to be a father? He shook his head, trying to comprehend that fact. Him being a father just wasn't _possible_. It was impossible. It was... was it impossible?

His mind drifted back to when he was a child. All of the children talked of their kids one day and what their kids were going to do, just as they talked about what they would do someday. It was all dreams that they openly shared and plotted amongst themselves.

_Did I ever give being a father a second thought? _Vincent wondered. _Did I just assume, just as the other children did? I couldn't have – I must have known better. I must have known that 'it could never be', right? No, I had never even thought of that. I assumed that someday I'd have children. Did I even wonder what they would look like, or who would give birth to my children? No, I suppose I never thought that far ahead, at least not until I turned twelve, when Father explained to me how new life is formed._

Vincent shook his head. He had believed from the time he was twelve until now that he could never be a Father. It had been drilled into his head for over fifteen, no, over twenty years. He had grown used to the fact, and on must occasions, it didn't bother him a bit. It only bothered him late at night when he was trying to sleep, or when he saw a child's shining smile. But now... now what had been deemed impossible was coming true.

But that wasn't just it. He didn't remember conception. The baby had to be conceived, and surely, it was his, no doubt. But _how_? Well, he understood _how_ but he couldn't understand _why_. Why couldn't he remember? Why did it have to happen during the madness? Why did it have to happen?

Vincent shuddered, not knowing what he had done to Catherine that day. _I could never ask her, _Vincent thought, in somewhat pain. _That would be inappropriate. But details... details would be nice._

Details. Sure, he would like the details on what he had done to her, but that probably wouldn't be wise; he would just torture himself with the knowledge, and he and Catherine both knew it. But the details of what had happened... the details of... everything.

_For shame, Vincent! For shame! _He scolded himself for thinking such lustful thoughts. _Do not think such things about Catherine! Never, ever again!_

He knew it was helpless. He knew that no matter what he did, such thoughts would creep into his mind. Such lustful thoughts that Father would be ashamed of, that Vincent should be ashamed of, that Catherine would...

_Catherine would smile! _Vincent realized. _She likes it when I think such thoughts! She likes it when I think of her in such... shameful ways._

He ducked his head. Shameful. They were shameful. It didn't matter if Catherine liked those kinds of thoughts or not, they were still shameful and he shouldn't be thinking them.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

Catherine laughed softly as Meg and she walked on the soft dirt. They were Below, heading towards the main community. Their way was dimly lit, shadows lurking out of corners.

"What's so funny?" Meg asked.

Catherine sighed contently. "Vincent's not very content." she said slyly.

"What do you mean?" Meg asked.

Catherine was a bit unsure on whether she should tell Meg or not, and then decided to give a little information. "Let's just say, a bit of longing."

"Ah." Meg giggled. "Does he know you can feel him like that? Knows what he wants and thinking? What he feels?"

"Well, I can't always." Catherine admitted. "Only sometimes. Vincent has some sort of special gift that helps him... I wish I had that gift."

"Does he know that you know what he's feeling?" Meg asked.

Catherine wrinkled her forehead. "Never thought of that – lets hope not."

"Why?"

"Because I have to carefully contain my thoughts, otherwise they explode all over the place." Catherine explained. "The things I naturally think of... Vincent would be as red as a cherry."

Meg laughed. "Somehow I can't see him turning red as a cherry. Or blue as a blueberry. Or pale as a sheet."

"It's called a figure of speech!" Catherine said. "It's pretty hard to tell when he blushes and stuff like that. Mostly I just need to figure it out for myself, or just ignore it."

Meg smiled. "You'd be crazy to let him go, Catherine."

Catherine nodded. "I know."

Meg searched for the words. "But Cathy, if your relationship doesn't make... progress, you will lose him. It's inevitable."

"Now that's not true." Catherine had to argue. "Vincent and I have something special. But I do see your side of it. But I'm hopeful."

"Since you're pregnant with his child, you can only get closer, right?' Meg tried to point out the bright side. "Hopefully?"

Catherine shook her head.

Meg frowned. "What? No? No, Cathy, I think I'm right..."

"No! I'm not arguing with you." Catherine tried to explain. "I was just shaking my head to clear it." she glanced sideways at her always teasing cousin. "No wise cracks."

Meg laughed gleefully. "Man! Because I was just about to say-"

"I know what you were about to say." Catherine couldn't help but laugh. She sighed contently. "I still can't believe it."

"Believe what?" Meg asked.

"That I actually told you of Below and of Vincent." Catherine said. "What took me so long?"

"Hey, if I thought there was any risk to Mike involved, I'd be weary too." Meg told her cousin truthfully. "But I am glad you finally told me." she reached out and squeezed her cousin's hand affectionately.

Catherine again sighed. "Meg, do you think I'm crazy?"

"Most definitely." Meg assured her cousin. "Absolutely bonkers."

Catherine rolled her eyes. "I'm serious."

"Cathy," Meg said gently. "You're having doubts, aren't you?"

Catherine sighed yet once again. "I love him with everything, really, I do!" she indeed sounded convinced of that. "I would give him anything, everything. And even though our baby isn't born, I would give the baby everything as well! But I can't help but wonder that..."

"That you might be making a mistake?" Meg finished Catherine's apprehensive thoughts.

Wordlessly, Catherine nodded.

"I don't think that's happening, Catherine." Meg tried to assure her cousin. "I don't think your making a mistake by being in love, or having his child." She paused while searching for the words. "Now, not to step on any toes here, but the baby's, er, conception was a mistake, if you know what I mean. It wasn't the right time."

Catherine nodded. "I think Father has said that enough for everyone in both worlds."

Meg smiled sympathetically as they walked on. "If you have any doubts, Catherine, you know I'm not the person to tell."

Catherine sighed. "I know. It's not doubt as much as it is… I don't know what to call it."

"The jitters? Unsure? Nervous?" Meg asked. "Catherine, I'm sorry, but the only person who can really try to help solve the problem is Vincent, and you know that."

"I know." Catherine said. "It's just that… we're walking around in the dark, here. Pitch black, with no light anywhere."

"What do you mean?" Meg asked, puzzled.

"Many people glide into romance, love, marriage, et cetera." Catherine explained. "Absolutely glide. They think they struggled to get there, but they really didn't; they just had the same obstacles everyone else has at one time or another, sought out advice from people who had been there and made it, right?"

Meg nodded slowly. "I suppose so. Go on."

"Well, Vincent and I are like two blind people, stumbling in the dark." Catherine tried to explain. "It seems like all we do is stumble, yet we can't get advice from anyone with experience."

"Why not?" Meg didn't fully understand, since Catherine was being rather vague.

Catherine sighed in frustration. "Because we don't know anyone who has had to deal with our same or even similar obstacles before!" she exclaimed. "No one, ever, has been in our same or similar situation before!"

"Now you don't know _that_." Meg told Catherine, referring to Catherine's last sentence. "If I've learned anything this week, it's that all sorts of people exist, right under your nose, no pun intended." She said. "What of Vincent's parents?"

"Margaret was easily influenced." Catherine said with a flip of her hand. "Father was crushed, and moved down here, where he met Grace. And those two were perfectly happy, having none, if any, obstacles until she died. Does that sound like Vincent and me? Together, yet not? Happy, but sad? Wanting, but not able to have? Such pain and grief, even though we haven't been hurt or nothing taken away from us?" Catherine asked.

Meg slapped her forehead. "I was talking about Vincent's parents. Plural, as in a father and a mother – his real parents, not Father."

"Well, what about them?" Catherine asked.

"What was their situation?" Meg asked. "You said that no one has ever been in your situation before, but they must have been."

"Hardly." Catherine scoffed. "To them Vincent was nothing but a science experiment."

"Now you don't know that." Meg scolded her cousin gently. "Its not fair passing judgment, especially when you don't know the whole story. Or the story at all. No one knows that whole story, save his real parents, so no one can judge. Perhaps there was no science involved."

"Yeah right," Catherine said sarcastically. "You get an animal-looking human with no experimentation, science or drugs involved?"

Meg eyed her younger cousin. "Your being rather harsh, don't you think?"

"It's just that, I'm so confused!" Tears filled Catherine's green eyes. "We don't know what we're supposed to do, if we're supposed to do! Why do we have to figure this out? Why can't someone else have gone through this situation before and mapped it all out for us?"

Meg sighed. "I don't know, Catherine, but… but you need to ask yourself how you really feel about it, and once you're calmed down, talk to Vincent about it."

"He already knows how I feel." Catherine reminded Meg of the bond.

"Of course he does, but he may not know why you're feeling that way, or what you're thinking. Talk to him." Meg encouraged.

"Catherine?" they heard a familiar soft, gravelly voice behind them.

Catherine and Meg turned around to see Vincent behind them, standing tentatively.

"Vincent!" Catherine exclaimed, overcome with joy. She ran over to him and hugged him as hard as she possibly could. He held her, but not half as hard as he could. He would definitely break her, and the baby, if he squeezed very hard at all.

Catherine looked up at him in the eyes. "You can squeeze a little harder, you know."

Taking a deep breath, he held her a bit tighter, but not much. He wanted her to feel loved and secure, but he was aware of his great strength and knew he could break her like a toothpick without realizing it.

Catherine sighed, contently. "I've missed you." She said.

"I have missed you." Vincent returned.

Catherine gently pulled away from Vincent. "Vincent, this is my cousin-"

"Catherine, we've met!" Meg laughed, politely shaking Vincent hand in greeting.

"More than once, as I recall." Vincent shook her hand.

Suddenly Catherine stopped with a sinking feeling in her stomach. "Wait, Vincent – how long have you been here?"

He ducked his head. "Catherine," he tried. "I felt your pain and confusion, and came here. I should have alerted you to my presence-"

"What was the first thing you heard us talking about?" Catherine asked, none too sharply.

"Me." Vincent admitted. "Mistakes and doubts."

Catherine's shoulders dropped. "You heard that whole thing?"

"Now, Catherine, it's just as well." Meg put in. "He needed to hear it anyway."

Catherine sighed. "Sorry." She muttered.

"Sorry for what?" Vincent asked, looking her carefully in the eyes.

"For saying the stuff I did. I didn't mean it." She absent-mindedly pushed a lock of hair back.

"Yes you did." Vincent said. "But it is all right. I do not mind – you needed to vent to someone and I was eavesdropping. I am sorry as well, Catherine."

"Thanks." Catherine said, squeezing his hand affectionately. Quickly she dropped it in disgust. "Eeewwww! What's all that brown crusty stuff stuck all over your hand?" she looked at him. "And your hair, and even on your face-"she tried to use her fingers to wipe the bit of mud that was still stuck to his face, but with no avail.

"Mud." Meg laughed. "It's all mud."

"Mud?" Catherine stared at Vincent. "This is all mud stuck to you? Why'd you do that?"

"It was from the pipe repairs yesterday, and the day after." Vincent explained. "we're, er, still working on it."

Giggles escaped from Catherine and Meg's throats before they could stop them.

Noting their amused states, Vincent held out his arms. "What is funny about it?"

Catherine fell back into her arms, both women freely bursting into laughter. "I don't know," Catherine laughed.

Vincent felt a little awkward. Were they laughing at him? No, they couldn't be. Catherine would never laugh at him, and Meg struck him as the type that wouldn't either. But then why were they laughing? Catherine said she didn't know – why would you be laughing if something wasn't funny?

Finally, their girlish giggles subsided. "Ah," Meg said, wiping a tear from her eye. She looked at Catherine and immediately busted into giggles again, Catherine immediately joining in.

Vincent sighed. "Perhaps I should not even try to understand this madness."

"Your right; don't even try." Meg told him. "It's a girl thing."

Catherine took Vincent's arm and began heading towards the main hub, Meg with her. She gave another small giggle. "Oh, Vincent, you were so cute when you said that!"

"Cute?" Vincent stopped and looked at her strangely.

"Not like baby cute, but like handsome cute." Meg attempted to elaborate. "It was funny, attractive, charming…" she sighed, looking over at Catherine. " Am I getting anywhere close to explaining what you meant by that?"

Catherine nodded happily. "Close." She said with a content sigh. "So, Vincent, what has been going on since Meg left last night? Anything important or interesting happen? Anything amusing? How is everyone? Do they know I'm coming? Is there still work to do with the busted pipe? Any way we could help?" she peppered him with questions.

Vincent eyed Meg. "I thought a woman in her condition was supposed to have low energy, not ready to run a marathon."

Meg laughed at Vincent's humor. "Very funny. Just satisfy her curiosity and she'll take a nap, she promises."

Vincent looked over at Catherine. "Everything is fine, Catherine. What is left to be done at the pipes is very little, and we already have people down there working on it – they should be finished by noon. And no, there is nothing you can do to help, I apologize."

"Nothing?" Catherine sounded disappointed.

"Nothing." Vincent verified.

"He wouldn't let you help yesterday, Cathy." Meg reminded her cousin. "What makes you think he'll let you help today?"

"I don't know." Catherine sighed. "I guess I was just hoping the work would be lighter or something, or that he forgot or-"

"Told you she's a workaholic." Meg reminded Vincent.

"Catherine, I have told you before; please keep to the lighter work for now." Vincent told her. "If any housework requires climbing, reaching, or bending, let me know; Jamie, Mary, or one of the children will gladly assist you."

"But I enjoy it." Catherine said. "It gives me a feeling of… I don't know, achievement, I guess." She eyed the clean bandage that covered his forehead, then her eyes trailed down to his foot, which was still bound by a thick bandage instead of a boot, and then back up, where she knew his chest and stomach must be aching from his broken ribs, and she didn't even want to think about all the pulled or strained muscles. "You should know." She said.

Meg sighed. "Well, if either of you want any more work piled up on your plate, come to my house; it's a complete disaster."

"We'll keep that in mind." Catherine laughed. "But in return you have to baby-sit our baby whenever we want you to."

"Deal." Meg said.

Vincent gave an inaudible sigh, which hurt his ribs just the same. Go to Meg's house? He could never do that. Baby-sit their baby? She couldn't do that; it looked like the baby would be almost be too difficult for Vincent and Catherine to take care of. And when would they want Meg to watch the baby? They always could; it was not like they were going to go on a Caribbean cruise every summer.

Vincent opened his mouth to speak, but then shut it again. There was no use stating the facts that Catherine and Meg certainly already knew. Their going on and on about the impossible was probably one more of their 'girl things' that Vincent would never understand.

They had just approached the main community when they were met by Father. "Oh, hello Catherine, Meg." he greeted the two women.

"Hello Father." The women giggled simultaneously.

Father raised his eyebrows at Vincent, giving him a curious look, as if to ask 'what's so funny?' All Vincent could do in reply was shrug though, trying to contain his smile. It made him happy to see Catherine in such close companionship with another person. She would never admit it, but she had been kind of distant from many people Above since she had found out of Below. Between spending so much time either Below or at work, she had little time for other people, or when she did, she couldn't really be honest with them, since most of her life was filled with going-ons Below. But finally, someone from Above knew - a close girlfriend of hers that she could talk to. Really, talk to. Laugh with and cry with, like he had a feeling all women needed to do at one time or another. It made him happy to know that Catherine was happy.

"Well, er, good day." Father excused himself, continuing on his way.

Catherine finally got a bit more serious, noting that Vincent wasn't in on the brain waves that she and her cousin seemed to share. "So," she said. "What's on the agenda for today?

"Just the normal activities." Vincent answered her. "Lessons and-"

"There you are." Mary's scolding voice came up behind him. "I thought I heard you in here."

Vincent sighed, knowing for sure that she was scolding him. Why did it seem that everyone was doing that to him lately?

"What is it, Mary? Anything I can help with?" Meg asked sweetly, trying to come to Vincent's rescue. She normally didn't take up for people she hardly knew, but Vincent was… different, and besides, he was practically Catherine fiancé.

"As a matter of fact, you can." Mary said slowly, observing the younger man's muddied state. "You and Catherine both."

"Mary," Vincent tried. "Please – I can take care of it myself."

"Nonsense." Catherine said, knowing what Mary was getting at. She reached for his arm and began leading him to his chamber, Meg on her heels. "You've probably got a million and one things to do that you can do while we comb the mud out of your hair."

"It's not just my hair-"Vincent was interrupted by Meg.

"Father and you can take care of the rest, I'm sure." Meg said. "But please give Catherine the pleasure in helping you with what she can."

They got to his chamber and immediately sat him down in the chair, large and sturdy enough to bear his weight. Catherine grabbed the comb off of his dresser, where he had left it. "Okay, let's do this." She said determinedly.

"Do you have another comb?" Meg asked.

Before Vincent could open his mouth to speak, Catherine answered Meg's question. "No, but I have one in my purse." She handed Meg the purse that was casually slung over her shoulder.

"You aren't supposed to share combs." Meg fingered the comb.

"Pish-tosh," Catherine said with a flip of her hand, gently starting to tackle the reddish-blonde hair that was matted all over with dried mud. "If Vincent has head lice, I would have it by now as well, and vice-versa. We haven't much to worry about."

"It can be a pain in the rear to get rid of." Meg warned as she starting at the bottom of Vincent's mane, gently working each speck of mud and each section of each tangle out, like she did on her daughters' long hair every day. "When Bailee first came to us, she was infested. We had to clean the house top to bottom consistently, and had to wash her hair with mayonnaise, eggs, Listerine, you name it. It was hideous."

Vincent gave an inward groan. He would never, ever forget the time that one of the children brought head lice to Below. Devin must have been the one, because Father first found the lice on Vincent, and at the time, Vincent and Devin had shared what was now Vincent's chamber. But soon, everyone had it and they had used nearly every method in the world to get rid of it. Finally lye soap had worked wonders, and there hadn't been another lice 'epidemic' since, and if there was every another one, it would be too soon. Vincent shuddered, remembering how horrible it was to have to take complete bathes in the strangest stuff, multiple times a day. Everyone else just had to wash their hair, but not he; Vincent had been covered with lice from head to toe, infested throughout his fur.

"What are you think about, Vincent?" Catherine asked him as she gently worked free a knot.

"Sounds like he's reflecting on something." Meg replied. "Care to share, Vincent?"

"Do I have a choice?" he asked, nonchalantly.

"Vincent," Meg sighed, exasperated, having a good idea about how he felt about them cleaning him up. "Don't be embarrassed over me and Catherine's pampering you – girls love that kind of stuff."

"'Pampering'?" Catherine laughed. "Hardly. He has no idea." Her tone turned serious. "Vincent, it gets down quicker with two women doing it, who are well experienced than just you doing it yourself. And we enjoy doing it – please don't feel humiliated in the slightest."

"You know, Above, men go to beauty parlors." Meg said. "They get their hair washed, and cut, they get shaven, and some of the real whacked ones get their nails buffed – don't think having a couple women brush your hair out is shameful, dumb, or embarrassing in any way."

Vincent sighed, knowing the two women were right. "I feel rather useless." He commented.

Catherine reached over to his bookshelf and handed him a book full of Jean Racine's poetry, in French, of course. "Work on translating these – that'll keep you busy."

Vincent shook his head. "I have done that already."

"Already?" Meg seemed genuinely shocked. "That's a thick book! And I'm not too familiar with poetry, but wouldn't that Jean Racine stuff be hard to translate?"

Vincent shrugged. "Sometimes I have a lot of time on my hands."

"And sometimes not enough time, like lately for instance." Catherine told Meg, yanking the comb through his hair gently. Well, one can't exactly yank gently, but she was as gentle as she could.

"What have you been busy with of late, Vincent, aside from the pipe?" Meg asked him.

Vincent began ticking things off furred fingers. "Between repairing that pipes in several different places, several different times, helping Kanin and Olivia make more room in their chamber, sealing entrances, making the baby's chamber, my normal chores, and then some," he sighed. "Yes, Catherine is right; I have been busy."

"Might I suggest taking it slower, then?" Meg asked. "You working yourself down until you can't open your eyes won't be helpful to anyone."

"And all work and no play make one very dull." Meg reminded them. "I understand helping people and getting work done is important, but so is taking time of for," she gave Catherine a sidelong glance, "for other things is good too. Now if you two will excuse me, I have to go do something."

"What is it?" Vincent asked, curious. Certainly if anything needed done, he would be the first to know.

"I have to, er, go help with the children." Meg said rather lamely as she scooted out of the room.

Catherine couldn't help but roll her eyes. It was obvious; what Meg was trying to do was leave Vincent and Catherine together, alone, for the first time in days. She just could have found a smoother way to do so.

Catherine sighed. "Not very subtle, is she?"

"Not in the least." Vincent couldn't help but chuckle. "But it was a fine attempt."

"So, the journey." Catherine began. "You never told me why you came back so early."

"Well, what with the pipe busting and all the chaos that we have been facing, I have hardly had the chance to speak to Father about it." Vincent said. "As I was walking, I started reflecting on the sickness, and my current circumstances, and realized that they were all… connected, you might say."

"Connected?" Catherine seemed a bit confused, and genuinely surprised. "What do you mean by 'connected'?"

"Perhaps 'connected' was not the right word." Vincent said. "I realized that the circumstances I am in now are very similar to the circumstances I had right before I had the sickness the two previous times."

Catherine scrunched up her nose as she pulled the comb through his hair, trying to think. "What were the circumstances? I didn't know you when you were a teenager, and I don't remember anything specific about your circumstances a year ago."

Vincent sighed. He was hoping Catherine would catch his drift so he wouldn't have to go into detail, explain how he subconsciously tortured himself everyday, much of it having to do with her, even though it wasn't her fault. He didn't want to explain how it felt when he hurt Lisa, when he found out about Catherine's pregnancy, when he found out that he had hurt Catherine. He didn't want to explain to sheer pain that tore through his body whenever he thought of Catherine. He loved her so much that it hurt, and it hurt even worse knowing it would never exceed a simple hug or touch, a simple glance or smile. How was he supposed to tell her that?

Her turned around in his chair to look at her eyes. They were wide with love, eagerness, and honesty. If he couldn't tell her these things, who could he tell? Sure, he could tell Father, but if anyone deserved to know about how he felt, especially when it came to Catherine, was Catherine. And she never hid a thing from him, not unless it was for his own good, and then always wound up letting him know anyways. She let him feel all her feelings without complaint, though she rarely felt his back. Telling her how he felt, that the way he felt could be how the sickness was caused, would be a good thing, certainly.

"It is hard to describe," Vincent said, curling his left leg under him to get more comfortable, seeing is how his right foot was broken and swollen. Catherine went and sat near him, on his bed.

"Take your time." Catherine told him. "We have all day."

_No, we do not have all day. _Vincent thought. _If I don't tell you know, I will think better of it and decide not to tell you._ But he didn't share that information. Instead, he needed to share the more important information; about the sickness and the way that he felt.

"You most likely think you are well aware of my current circumstances." Vincent began.

Catherine nodded. "To some extent, yes."

"Well," Vincent paused somewhat awkwardly. "The thoughts that have been running through my mind, the feelings that have soared through me have been… immense, feelings that would take a page to describe."

"We've got time." Catherine said. "Do you think you could share those thoughts and feelings with me?"

Vincent nodded. "When you first told me about… about the baby, my first response was utter shock. I didn't know what to say, what to do, what to think… and then I thought for a moment that you had found…" he summoned up the courage to find his sentence, "that you had found love Above,"

"Oh, Vincent-"Catherine tried to interrupt.

"But I knew you had not." Vincent assured her. "Had you, I would have known. So then, my state was shock and confusion. And then when you told me that the baby…" his voice seemed to get caught in his throat. "That the baby was mine; I was filled with fear, and even more shock and confusion. And then guilt. And those feelings have seemed to… to take a life of their own. Everyday, it seems, I feel those feelings so strongly-"

"But that's not fair!" Catherine insisted. "It was my fault just as much as it was yours, so that takes care of the guilt problem. And the confusion is-"

Vincent held up his hand, signaling for her to stop talking. "I am not finished." He reminded her. "And it does not matter if the feelings are justified or not. I understand what you are trying to tell me, but it does not stop me from feeling those feelings."

"So what's this have to do with the sickness?" Catherine wanted to know.

Vincent took a deep breath. "And it is probably no mystery to you that, since the day I first found you in the park, my heart has been filled with pain, a bittersweet pain."

"Pain? Why pain?" Catherine asked, wondering what she had done to cause any pain for Vincent.

He searched for the words. "Pain because of the love. The love runs so deep that it hurts, for some odd reason." He shook his head. "There is no understanding it."

"And that's the bitter part?" Catherine asked hopefully. He had described it as a bittersweet pain; perhaps that was the worst of it.

He shook his head. "That is the sweet part – the very sweet part." Vincent assured her. "The other pain is…" he shook his head in shame. " The other pain is because what can never be."

_It's now or never, _Catherine thought. "Vincent, don't you think that we can start pursuing our dream, to a decree?"

He sat up straight in surprise. "Catherine," he motioned to her swollen belly. "Don't you think we have pursued it past what we should have already?"

She shook her head boldly. "Vincent," she tried. "Let's keep with keeping things slow, like we have been," she said. "Only now, lets pick up the pace a bit. Our baby being born, my moving Below, are big steps. But aside from that, I still have no objections to taking it slow. But as for the limits?" she shook her head. "No limits, Vincent. Love knows no boundaries, does it?"

"No." Vincent said firmly. "I will not risk-"

"But it's not fair!" Catherine cried. "You, out of all people in the world, should have anything and everything you want, and this is something small and simple that your dying to experience and-"

"No." Vincent said again, firmly.

"I'm not talking sharing a bed!" Catherine told him, annoyed. "Just sharing a bit more alone time, just a bit more physically open-"

"No!" Vincent gave a small roar. "No, Catherine! No!" She was talking about unfairness – what did she know of life being unfair? And now she was tormenting him, talking of all of these options and of the things that they _could_ do and- just when he thought the madness was not going to occur, she was going to drive him to it!

"But Vincent-"she tried.

"No!" he said. "Never, Catherine! Never! Never speak of this again!"

"Your overreacting." She pointed out.

"And your being unreasonable!" he said. "You cannot be satisfied with the small things; you need bigger and better!"

"I can live with the small things, Vincent." Catherine said quietly. "And so can you. We can live our entire lives, trying to be content with the small things, when we can both be happier than ever with 'the bigger and better', for free." She paused. "You know that you want this for us as well; its not 'Catherine's dream', it's 'our dream'."

"We cannot both be happier for free, as you say." He said. "Look at me! Look at yourself – I could kill you!"

"Yes, you easily could, but not if we're careful." Catherine said.

Vincent couldn't help but pound the table in frustration. "'Careful' is not the solution! I've been careful before and broken things!"

"Everyone has!" Catherine said. "What's your point?"

"I could tear you apart!" Vincent told her. He didn't like this; she had made a simple suggestion and now he was acting like an angry drunken fool, and worse, he was losing this argument.

"What are the odds?" Catherine asked him. "When you weren't being careful, when you weren't in right mind, you gave me a couple scars, nothing big. And if your in your right mind-"

"'A couple scars'?" Vincent asked. "You make it seem like its not big deal!"

"It's not!" Catherine replied. "It's a small price to pay for love. A small, petty price."

"So you admit that we cannot be happier for free." Vincent couldn't help but childishly point out.

"You're impossible!" She threw her hands up in the air. "Absolutely impossible!"

"Talk about impossible!" he retorted. "You are the one insisting on the impossible."

"You mean 'making love'?" she asked, still angry.

He blushed. It seemed like things like that were never said or talked about, that is, until Catherine's pregnancy. Then Father, Catherine, Mary, and a select others spoke of it so… so _openly_ to him. It felt kind of… embarrassing. Awkward.

"Go ahead, blush all you want." Catherine said, noticing his slight change of color underneath the golden fur. "It won't change anything at all. Things still are the way they are – and _nothing _is impossible!"

"Some things _are_." Vincent insisted.

"And you and I together is not one of the few impossible things in the world." Catherine said. "Look at you – most people would call you impossible, but its not. Everything is probably impossible – people just don't know about it yet."

Vincent sighed somewhat angrily. He couldn't carry on an argument long – he never had been able to. He always had either gotten tired or realized it wasn't that important, or realized the other person was right, or something along those lines. And it seemed for sure that every time he was going to lose an argument with a hormonal woman.

"Just because you are having our child," Vincent said. "Just because of that, does not mean it is _possible_. It is not possible for us to do anything again. _Ever_ again."

"Why not?" Catherine pressed. "Because you're afraid you will hurt me?"

Vincent nodded. "Yes, that and… other things."

"What other things?" Catherine asked.

"For starters," Vincent racked his brain. "It is complicated; you are… and I am… we can never predict what will happen in the future… and if anything were to go wrong… what if I was not made to…" he searched for the words, of all the things that could go wrong if they exchanged anything more than the occasional hug.

"It seems you have a fear of commitment, Mr. Wells." She said coolly.

That left Vincent without words. Fear of commitment? Him? To Catherine? Never! And it was hardly a fair accusation; he had risked life and limb for her, time and time again, without fail. Not only his life and safety, but many peoples. Many people's lives that he loved very much. How much more committed to her could he be?

Vincent looked at Catherine, the hurt showing clearly through his eyes. "Fear of commitment?" he said slowly, looking her into the eyes. "Is that what you think?"

She nodded. "Good day Mr. Wells." She said formally, leaving the chamber.

Vincent watched her go and then slumped against the wall. What was happening? It seemed things were happening so fast as of late that he could barely stay caught up with the events. She was mad at him again, for what? For being afraid of what was only to be feared, for being cautious when one should be? For being protective and earnest? For being…

_I am scared to death for Catherine to have my child. _Vincent realized. _Frightened beyond belief. I have been doing my best – and failing miserably – to act strong, as if it does not bother me, for her sake. But perhaps being honest with her is the best thing. Perhaps if I told her of the now greater risk I had thought of; even if I don't hurt her, what of our baby?_

Before he could think better of it, he stood up and raced out of his chamber and down the corridor, finding Catherine at the end, speaking with 'Meg. Catherine was obviously angry about the conversation that took place between her and Vincent, hormone –induced anger, to be sure. Meg looked like she was jus trying to calm her down.

Vincent shook her head. Lately he had known nothing but turmoil. Whether it was guilt or pain he felt, any pain Catherine felt, or anything of the like, he had gotten a hold of it firsthand. He couldn't imagine being more stressed and stretched then he felt at that moment.

"Catherine," Vincent tried, interrupting the two women. "Catherine, let me apologize."

"You're too late." Catherine retorted, spinning on her heel. "Let's go, Meg."

Meg hesitated. "Maybe we should listen to what he's saying, Cathy." She said gently.

"No; I've heard it already." Catherine's eyes glazed with anger. "And all he's got to say is crud. Come on, Meg – lets go." she took her cousin's hand and tried to lead her out of the Tunnels, but Meg's feet stayed flat on the ground.

"Catherine, _please_." She pleaded with her cousin. "Listen to what he has to say."

Catherine turned and looked at Vincent sharply. "Speak." she said flatly.

Vincent felt kind of stuck. As much as he wasn't willing to share his fears and inner thoughts with anyone, he knew he had to share them with Catherine, and probably Father eventually, as well. But bearing his soul to her in the open hall, with Meg standing right there, and likely more people just around the bend, purposely making their presence unknown, but certainly listening. He shook his head. It didn't matter; she was angrier than he had even imagined, and she might not give him another chance.

"I'm frightened." He blurted out. "Frightened for you, the baby, my family and friends, and lastly, myself. So much could go wrong… so much already has…"

"In your opinion." Catherine retorted. "It seems they are just going just fine to me."

Vincent chose his words carefully. "I just never pictured our dream happening like this." He tried to emphasize to word 'our'.

"Well, fate seems to have other things in mind. It's high time you get used to things not happening like it should 'traditionally'. We're not only eleven years shy of a new millennium where things are bound to be crazy, but we're also being faced with completely different circumstances. Get used to it." She tried to snootily march her way out of the Tunnels once again, but was stopped by Meg – again.

Vincent thought over what she said. What she had said was relatively true, he had to admit. Of course, when he told her that, he might want to leave the 'relatively' part out.

"Your right." He tried to ease her anger. "You are right, I am wrong. I have been…" he was about to start using describing words that put himself down but she stopped him.

"Nice try." Was her reply as she walked away superiorly.

Meg looked at Vincent helplessly. "I'm sorry." She said.

"It's not your fault." Vincent assured her. After a pause he added, "her behavior is normal, isn't it?"

Meg nodded. "She's pregnant. It's… complicated."

Vincent nodded. "Is there anything I could do? Perhaps-"

"If you can think of any way to butter her up, even if it sounds ultra-corny, cheesy or mushy, do it." Meg nodded. "Almost any way, at least."

Vincent nodded. "Any suggestions?"

She shook her head. "She'll know if I gave you suggestions. You can figure it out – I know you can." And with that, she left, taking one last look at him before she left, to try to find Catherine, who certainly wouldn't leave the Tunnels without her, would she?

She couldn't believe it. Vincent was so… unbelievable. He looked so… he acted so… she couldn't find the words to describe him. What was more shocking; his looks or the way he acted? Which of the two was more amazing?

How was she going to explain Vincent to Mike? Mike would certainly think she's crazy! No matter hw much he believed her usually, he would never buy the fact that Vincent was a fact, not fiction. How was she going to explain that Catherine was pregnant with…. with a monster's child?

_Not a monster, _She reminded herself as she walked along. _He's a person. He just looks like a monster. Except for his eyes. His eyes aren't those of a human, but not those of a monster. His eyes… I've seen them before though. So beautiful, truthful, honest… like what I imagine Jesus' eyes look like. No one else in the world has had eyes like Vincent's ever, except for maybe Jesus, I'm sure._

Suddenly she heard Vincent's voice behind her. "Do you need walked back to Catherine's apartment?" he asked her kindly.

Meg nodded gratefully at the kind yet leonine face that towered over her. "Yes, that would be good. Do you think Catherine is headed back there?"

Vincent nodded. "I'm certain. I cannot feel her as clearly as I should like, since she is so angry with me, but I am sure she is on her way home."

Meg let Vincent lead her back to Catherine's apartment. "Thanks, Vincent." She thanked the man.

"Do not hesitate to ask anytime." He told her. "It was my pleasure." And with that, he disappeared into the shadows.

Meg smiled into the darkness he disappeared into. He was so patient with Catherine – Catherine had definitely found a good catch.

She climbed up the steel ladder that led to Catherine basement and then wove her way through the basement, out the basement, up several flights of stairs until she got to

Catherine's apartment. She turned the handle of the door and expected it to open; it didn't.

"Catherine!" Meg called through the door. "Catherine, its Meg – let me in."

That' when Meg realized that the door was locked from the outside – Catherine still hadn't gotten back to her apartment yet.

Ten times faster than she had gotten to Catherine's apartment door, Meg raced down the stairs, in to the basement, and down the steel ladder. She paused, not sure of where she was headed. How did one get to the main Tunnel hug again? She quickly made up her mind and started to where she thought the right direction was. She had to talk to Vincent – fast.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"No one has seen Catherine." Kipper reported, breathlessly. "Everyone says they last saw her with you and Meg."

"Thank you, Kipper." Vincent thanked the young boy. Vincent looked over at Father and Meg, who were standing by Father's desk. "Now what do we do?"

"Organize search parties." Father stated. "She must have taken a wrong turn somewhere, and we have got to find her before she wanders too far."


	21. Chapter 21

21

"Where could she be?" Meg cried out, accepting the handkerchief Mary offered to her. "How could she just disappear like that?"

"I'm sure she is fine." Mary assured the distraught younger woman. "she probably only got a bit turned around, or didn't go straight back to her apartment."

They were in the guest chamber. Meg was sitting on the bed, crying inconsolably because of Catherine's disappearance. Vincent and the rest of the Tunnel Dwellers were searching for the missing woman, but Meg was too distraught to join them. Besides, she wasn't very suited to hiking through the Tunnels. Mary wanted to stay with her, to make sure Meg was really all right before she participated in the searching herself.

"I should have gone with her!" Meg exclaimed. "I should have-"

"No amount of 'should haves' will chance the situation." Mary said firmly. "Vincent and the others are creating search parties. They are going to search every tunnel until they find her. Don't worry, Meg; she'll be found in no time."

"It's all my fault!" Meg wailed. "And I'm not an idiot; I know the minimum of number of tunnels there could possibly be down there – it would take weeks and weeks to search every single one!"

"But they'll find her." Mary reminded Meg. "Vincent's bond with her, remember? It should not take long."

"Their bond." Meg shook her head. "It doesn't make sense. It's nonsense!"

"It doesn't make sense, does it?" Mary agreed. "But there they are being faced with it. It exists, whether anyone thinks it makes sense or not."

"But how do we know it's not just a figment in their imaginations?" Meg wanted to know, tearfully. "What if he _can't_ find her through the bond?"

Mary shook her head. "I have wondered the same thing myself, but if they did not have their bond, how would you explain Vincent always knowing when Catherine is in peril – and where she is? How would you explain his ongoing suffering through the pat few months, what with her mood swings?"

"I don't get that part either." Meg said, frustrated. "He feels what she feels?"

"He knows when she's upset." Mary tried to explain, though staying very patient with the confused young woman. "And he knows when she's joyful. He fears for her when she fears, and he is saddened when she is. And lately, she's been feeling all of these emotions to an extreme, and since he is having his own problems right now, he would probably be feeling those feelings in a small way, only now-"

"The feelings have gone to extreme extremes." Meg finished, almost fully comprehending what Mary was saying. She wiped away another tear. "Do you really think they'll find her?"

"I'm sure of it." Mary told Meg. Mary didn't make promises she couldn't keep, not ever. But she felt confident that this one would be kept.

"Will she be all right?" Was Meg's next question. "Will the baby be all right?"

Mary hesitated. Now that, she could not guarantee. "We'll hope for the best." Mary told Meg gently. "We'll hope and pray."

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

Vincent felt like pulling his hair out of his head as he walked down the dark quiet tunnel. Two Tunnelers, George and Patrick, were following close behind, calling out Catherine's name.

_Where did she go? _Vincent couldn't help but wonder. _I understand she is mad at me, but running off into strange tunnels is just irresponsible. She knows how dangerous they can be!_

Vincent knew that she was angry with him, and he understood that she was facing her own sort of semi-madness, but still disappearing wasn't wise either. He felt her fear through their bond; where was she and was she all right?

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

Catherine moaned as she took a look at her ankle. It was swollen almost as big as her waist was before she got pregnant.

In her huffy haste to get away from Vincent and what she considered selfish nonsense, she had gotten a bit turned around and then fell, twisting her ankle badly. She wasn't a doctor by any means, but it didn't take a rocket scientist to be able to tell that she had probably broken it.

_And I fell. _Catherine realized, a horrible shudder running up through her spine. _I fell down. A pregnant woman just fell down!_

Quickly, she placed her hand over her stomach. She didn't feel anything, But on the other hand, what was she supposed to feel? Aside from her ankle, and her sore wrist from her trying to break her fall unsuccessfully, she felt the same as she did half an hour ago. That was good, right? That meant the baby was fine, right?

It was times like these that Catherine really wished she had gone to medical school instead of law school. Then she could know if the baby was okay, if her ankle was okay, and if there was anything she could do right then to reverse the damage. But, no, all she could do now was wait for help, it seemed.

"Vincent?" she called out tentatively, in vain. Certainly, no one would hear her.

Catherine sighed. Even if Vincent did hear her, why should he come? She had only treated him like the bug on her windshield the past couple days. She had yelled at him and even took advantage of him. He had practically bore his soul to her, and she ignored him. She could only imagine how he felt.

_I wouldn't blame him if he never spoke to me again. _Catherine thought. Before she could stop it, a tear trickled down her cheek. _No! Now, none of that, Radcliffe! Straighten up! _She ordered herself. _Calm down and take a good look at the situation. What should I do?_

_First of all, you're sitting on sandy dirt, with an ankle the size of a 5 pound bag of flour. You just fell, and you're pregnant. You don't feel any different, so is that a good or bad sign?_

She took it has a neutral sign. Perhaps the baby was really all right and she hadn't done any damage. Besides, she had fallen on her knees, not her stomach. Maybe the baby was all right!

_Now, what can you do to get out of this mess? _She asked herself next. _Well, first, you can call out for help, but what are the odds of someone hearing you? You could find a rock or stick or something and bang on a pipe. But what would I say? I can't say much on the pipes; much less understand what's coming back to me. And besides, is there a pipe even around here?_

She looked around. If there was a pipe anywhere around her, it did a pretty decent job of hiding itself.

_Our bond. _Catherine finally realized. _He'll be able to figure out where I am because of our bond. It's only a matter of time before I'm warm and safe in his arms._

A guilty feeling plagued Catherine. How could she be content to just _assume_ he'll come rescue her, especially after the way she treated him? She'd treat a dog that wasn't hers better then she had treated Vincent. And something about assuming he would come on his white horse didn't feel right. She didn't want to appear a spoiled rich kid who tried to 'do good', that only seemed to get in more trouble than she was worth. No, that was the last thing she wanted to be and the last thing she wanted to appear to be.

"Vincent!" Catherine called weakly, ashamed of herself. No reply, yet once again.

_What am I going to say to him? _Catherine asked herself. _I should tell him that I'm sorry, for starters. No, that's so blah. 'Sorry' is like the word 'nice'; its used so often that it hardly has any meaning anymore. Okay, how's this; I'll _apologize_ to him, beg for forgiveness, and treat him like the king of England, which I should have been doing all along. He deserves nothing less._

Catherine gritted her teeth, her ankle really hurting. How long had she been on the ground? Forty-five minutes. But perhaps her ankle would support her – maybe she could walk and find her way back to the community.

Catherine grimaced as she struggled to stand up. Then gingerly, she tried to place weight on her left ankle, the twisted one. As soon as she put the slightest bit of pressure on it, pain shot up through her leg like… like some indescribable pain. With a moan, she sat back down in the dirt. It looked like she wasn't going anywhere for quite some time.

But then again, maybe that was all right; it left her time to think. And only God knew how much time she hadn't had to do something as normal as think.

She needed to think about Vincent, how she really felt about him. She needed to think about the baby, how she really felt about that baby. How did she feel about soon moving Below? How did she feel about cutting of contact with 99.9 of her family?

Vincent. She needed with think about him first. _Well, I can't live with him and I can't live without him, that's for sure. _Catherine thought, a smile creeping over her face despite the pain in her ankle and her circumstances. Whoever made up that saying couldn't have been more on target with Catherine's situation. While she couldn't live with him literally, without him, she'd probably curl up in a hole and die, at least emotionally, spiritually and mentally.

_I love him with everything. _Catherine was honest with herself. _Everything. Everything. I would give anything for him – anything. Even if it means giving up the home that I love. I will always love him at least that much, most likely more as time goes by. That, I'm sure of. And he knows my heart – how can he have any doubts about our relationship? And I understand his wanting to take things slow – or keep them extremely beyond extremely slow. He's almost like a child in that area – completely naïve and innocent. He knows nothing of such… such sensual pleasures. He's never even felt one's lips against his – and he's nearly forty years old!_

_If that's what he truly wants, to never know of such things, then I will not push it on him. _Catherine told herself determinedly. _But I don't think its not that he doesn't want it; I'm sure he does. But if he thinks it's wrong or dangerous, should I still press him about it? I can see both sides of the situation right now; he thinks he could hurt me or worse, and if anything like that should happen, he'd never, ever come anywhere close to forgiving himself. But in my defense, he hardly hurt be at all during our 'incident' and he was completely out of his mind. I think we could try again. Not the whole nine yards, of course, but a bit of… a bit more wouldn't hurt._

She shook her head. How on earth was she going to discuss this with Vincent calmly? She was bound to go on some wild goose-chase of emotions. She would never admit it out loud, but inside, she knew that she was a hormonal mess. And with the way she was driving Vincent crazy with all of her emotions, he'd probably get into some big emotional argument with her.

Catherine sighed, frustrated. It seemed like her love life was never going to be simple. But then again, whose was? Maid Marian's lover was an "outlaw", right? And in the book _Sense and Sensibility_, Eleanor and her sister didn't exactly have it easy either. And Scarlett O'Hara… well, anyone familiar with that story knows how complicated her life was in general, not just in her romantic department.

But then again, those characters were fictional. And this was modern times. It wasn't some drama that was going to be made into a movie – it was real life.

For a moment, Catherine tried to imagine her and Vincent's story a movie. She shook her head. She was going mad! What kind of crazy impulse caused her to think that?

_I do wish I treated Vincent better!_ Catherine thought. _He deserves so much, asks for so little, and gets hardly anything in return! The least I can do is have something nice to say to him!_

She knew she had a mood problem – which was that she wasn't herself, and though she never would admit it to anyone out loud, she would admit it to herself. One minute she'd be happy, than sobbing, than angry, and then happy again! It was absolutely crazy. And to make matters worse, she was dragging Vincent up and down the ladder of emotions with her, which was a bad thing; her changing moods to such extremes so often was making him sick.

She laid her hand over her belly once again, smiling softly at the thought of Vincent's baby lying in there, safe and warm. It was an honor to be carrying his child, to be sure. Catherine tried to envision what the baby would be like.

In her mind, it would be a normal baby on the outside. She knew that it was a long shot, but that's just how she pictured the baby. He – or she would be the most beautiful baby on the planet – inside and out. As the baby grew older, they would see a resemblance to Vincent, not on the outside, but on the inside. In the child's heart, love for learning, etc. That child would be perfectly content all of his days to live Below or Above, whatever he chose to do when he became of age. He would never let his parents down, not ever.

_He. _Catherine caught herself. _I'm referring to the baby as a 'he'. Oh, I wish we could find out! I'm dying to know whether it's a boy or a girl! But Vincent says he doesn't want to find out, and whatever he says, goes._

Catherine knew that that sounded a bit old-fashioned, especially since they weren't even married. Following by the husbands rules and decisions, whether she liked it or not, without complaining. Yet, that seemed to be the right and respectful thing to do, and it was often more often than not in the Tunnels. The men/husbands were in charge of keeping everyone safe, happy, and healthy, and needed to be respected and obeyed submissively. Such 'traditional' things were abandoned long ago Above, for women especially, complained of it being unfair, for men and women were equal, complained because of being taken advantage of, for being completely controlled. Below, at least, had it balanced to a place where the women weren't controlled or taken advantage of, the men only asking of them what was fair, and they asked it out of love. And it all worked perfectly, and if one ever did make a mistake, there was always a kind friend or family member to guide them back where they needed to go.

Catherine was so absorbed in her thoughts that she forgot where she was, and what her circumstances were. But a kick from the baby brought her back in reality.

"He kicked!" Catherine exclaimed, overjoyed. So maybe the baby was all right, right? There was absolutely nothing to worry about. Sure, a pregnant woman had just fallen, but that was okay, so long as the baby was all right, wasn't it?

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"They still aren't back yet." Meg said nervously, scrubbing the shirt against a smooth rock.

"They will be back soon – don't worry." Mary assured her, wringing a skirt out with her hands.

It was several hours later and still no one had seen no sign of Catherine. Meg ran up periodically to se if Catherine had returned Above. She had checked the DA's office and other places in the city where Catherine might have gone, but the results all turned up the same; Catherine was definitely missing, lost Below.

Meg being so worried was driving Mary crazy. Meg had every right to be as worried as she was about her cousin, this Mary understood, but sitting around doing nothing only made it worse. So she engaged Meg in washing laundry, Tunnel style. This kept Meg's hands busy, but Mary could tell her thoughts still ran wild.

"Vincent will find her." Mary assured Meg gently. "He always does."

"There's a first time for everything." Meg pointed out. "What if-"

"Unless she has gone to Oz, Vincent will find her." Mary repeated the same fact as she had before, only in a different form. "If she's anywhere on this earth, he will find her."

"But what's taking so long?" Meg slapped the wet shirt down against the rock in frustration. "I thought he knew where she was!"

"I'm not sure how that works." Mary admitted. "But no matter how it does, he will find her, I'm sure of it."

"Promise?" Meg asked.

Mary shook her head. "I shouldn't make promises I cannot keep, so I won't." Seeing Meg's disappointed face, she continued. "But on the other hand, I've known Vincent since he was a babe. And he _**will**_ find her."

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"This place looks strangely familiar." George commented, looking at their surroundings, in a small tunnel.

Vincent looked around. George was right; it did look familiar. Tan again, all the tunnels looked the same. All the tunnels were made of grey stone. All the tunnels had the black foggy look to them sometimes. All of the tunnels had the same amount of humidity and the same temperature. All of the tunnels had a sharp rock standing up on end so that it looked like a pencil… wait – not all tunnels had such a queer shaped rock. And yet, he could have sworn he saw the same rock only two hours ago.

"It's because we've been here before." Vincent said with a frustrated sigh. "We're going in circles!" He kicked a rock in frustration and sent it skipping across the tunnel. He then took in a sharp breath, realizing he kicked the rock with his broken foot. Wouldn't he ever learn?

"Ouch. Looks painful." Patrick commented in a monotone sort of way, noticing Vincent's grimace. Patrick was a man who had come to live Below about four years ago. He was a bit simple, but still a very, very good friend.

Vincent snarled in pain and in his frustration. Where _was_ Catherine? He could feel her, could feel her being a bit afraid, but trusting, dreamy and happy, and was that a bit of guilt she felt too? And he could feel that was nearby… somewhere Below. But her exact location he could not pinpoint. Why? He could usually always tell where she was. Perhaps it was just one of those unusual times where he couldn't.

"Uh, well, where should we look now?" George asked hesitantly.

"Tap out on the pipes that we've looked through here and she's not here, and that we're going to try to retrace her steps back to her threshold." Vincent instructed.

George raised his eyebrows. "Her cousin has walked back and forth over that route and hasn't seen her."

"Well, we'll look just the same." Vincent said. "Perhaps she just made a wrong turn or something. She was angry and not paying attention; it happens t the best of us."

"Never happened to me." Patrick boasted.

"Good then." Vincent smiled at the twenty-three-year-old man. "Very good. George, tap it out!" He turned to his pack, where he had fresh water. He handed some to Patrick, who drank thirstily, and then handed it to George once Patrick was done drinking his share, and once George was done tapping out the message.

"No reply." George gave the verdict.

Vincent nodded. "Well, we will have to just assume they heard our message then."

"Pascal heard it." Patrick was sure. "He always stays there down by the pipes."

Let's hope so." Vincent said. "Come on."

As they trekked back, George asked the question Vincent was hoping he wouldn't ask. "Why can't you tell where she is, Vincent?" he asked.

Vincent shook his head. "I do not know. But as we get closer to the main route to her apartment, the closer I feel to her."

"Does that mean she's at her apartment?" Patrick asked.

"No." George explained. "It means she's close to there, that she's somewhere near her threshold."

"Vincent will find her." Patrick said surely. "Vincent, George and me, we'll find Catherine and Catherine will be happy and-"

"Yes." Vincent stopped him from running on and on. "We will find her. Together. Together, we will find her."

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

Catherine pulled a piece of mint gum out of her purse and stuck it in her mouth, attempting to quiet the hunger pains that were surging through her body. She didn't know why she ha brought her purse Below – she normally didn't, but she was sure glad she did.

_What if Vincent doesn't find me? _A worried thought struck her. _What if I die down here?_

She knew she was being unrealistic; Vincent would _never_ let that happen to her. Never ever. Not in a million years, she knew that as a fact. But then why hadn't he come for her?

She checked her watch. It was 3:00 in the afternoon. She didn't know what time she tripped and fell, but it was definitely hours ago, certainly before noon. At least three hours... where was Vincent?

Catherine checked her ankle. It was swollen so gigantically now that she knew she wouldn't be able to walk on it. She was almost certain she broke it. Then, without meaning to, tears started streaming down her face. "Oh, Vincent!" she cried out loud. "I've been such a jerk! I'm so sorry! Please, come back to me! Give me one more chance!" she didn't care whether anyone heard her or not. Actually, she wanted someone to hear her cries. Then they would know where she was.

"Vincent, I love you." Catherine stated, even though she was alone, him nowhere within hearing range. "More than anything. Please forgive me! I'm so sorry!"

She couldn't believe how she had acted the past several weeks. Like a horses rear. Demanding, complaining, and causing trouble every which way and what had he done? Quietly ducked his head and didn't say a word about it. He put up with her every which way, no matter what she did or said. He had been amazing... remarkably amazing. And true, don't most husbands or boyfriends have to put up with hormonal women? But Vincent did it ten times better than anyone else could have, she was sure, and besides, most men didn't get angry, melancholy, disappointed, happy, and every other emotion whether it had a name or not, so often so quickly. Yet Vincent had been feeling all of those emotions lately, which had been wearing him down. But a word of complaint, at least to her? Nope. He treated her like a princess, regardless of her attitude, of her behavior.

She let out another sob. And another. And another. And then another. And then yet, after that, another. She didn't know why she had acted in such a cruel, hurtful way! So she cried and sobbed with guilt until she fell asleep on the hard ground, using her purse as a pillow.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"William's probably got supper ready." Patrick complained.

"There it will still be when we get back." George hushed Patrick as they followed Vincent down a tunnel, near the threshold of Catherine's apartment.

"My feet are tired." Patrick still complained.

George sighed. "Didn't I make it abundantly clear last time?" he whispered back at Patrick, irritated. "I said 'later'. We'll eat supper later. We'll rest _later_."

"Let him alone, George." Vincent instructed. "You two can go back to the kitchen, if you'd like."

George shook his head. "No, Vincent. We told you that we'd help you find Catherine, and by golly, that's what we're going to do!"

Vincent smiled at his friend for his loyalty. For some reason they were reminding him of Pascal and Mouse, but he couldn't quite figure out why. Mouse wasn't anything like Patrick, really, and George and Pascal probably didn't have a single thing in common.

"No, really, it is all right." Vincent assured George. "It must be at least seven o'clock by now, and you two both must be famished, and tired. I will release you from your promise to help me find Catherine. It is all right; go on."

George hesitated. "I, er, don't think I know the way back."

"Don't you?" Vincent was a bit surprised. He had walked so many of the tunnels so often that he didn't tire as easily as most everyone else, and he didn't get lost or turned around half as much either. It had been that way for quite a few years, but it never seemed to remain stuck in Vincent's head, so it was probably one area where he was a tad inconsiderate.

Vincent thought, walking the way back to the community in his head. "Keep walking down this tunnel until you see a long corridor to your left. Then walk down that and make another left at the first tunnel. You should then be able to find your way to the kitchen."

George nodded. "C'mon, Patrick."

"Where are we going?" Patrick asked obliviously to George as they turned and walked down the tunnel.

Vincent turned and walked back down the tunnel. He knew he was getting closer to her; he could feel it. There was no way he was turning back until he found her, not with her this close.

"Catherine!" he called out. "Catherine, where are you?" No reply. He sighed, looking down at the ground as he walked, in search for her footprints.

_Perhaps when we find her, we can… I don't know! _He felt so frustrated. Her moods swings had to stop. They _had_ to. Between making him feel sick and driving him crazy and all the added strain it was causing on their relationship, a relationship that could not afford any strain… yes, the mood swings _had_ to stop. But yet, what was there to do to stop them? They were perfectly natural occurring thing that happened while a woman was pregnant, or in some other… state. There was absolutely nothing they could do to change her mood swings for the next five months, was there?

Suddenly he stopped in his tracks. He could hear something. Almost like a ringing sound. No, that wasn't it. A snorting sound? No, not quite? Rumbling? Buzz? Yes, something like a rumble or buzz. What on earth was that?

Fear gripped Vincent heart. Hopefully it wasn't construction workers from Above, drilling a hole? That would never due, for them to get so close to the community of tunnel dwellers. Their world would certainly be…. Be shattered instantly. And Vincent's world… he shudder, only imagining what would happen to him and his family should they be found.

Cautiously, he crept towards the sound of the rumbling. Whenever someone tried to describe his appearance, they used the word _leonine_, which, while it was true, Vincent didn't appreciate it all that much. He hated being compared to a cat. But some of his leonine features worked to his advantage, like his being able to creep up softly without anyone noticing. He didn't know how he did it, but he could follow someone for hours, and the person would not even know he was there. He'd make a great robber in that aspect. If he ever got it into his head to become one, he and Mouse would make a great team, would they not?

He shook his head, trying to get such childish thoughts out. It was absolutely ridiculous; a moment where his world was at stake, his life, and he was thinking about being a robber? It was a funny thought though, which was another reason to forget the thought; the last thing he needed to do right then was laugh out loud.

As he got closer, the rumbling buzzing sound got louder. It wasn't too loud to begin with, but Vincent's keen hearing could pick it up a mile away. Finally he stopped, standing in a small, natural-built chamber, where it was nearly pitch black. Nearly. A bit of light shone in from the normal underground tunnels, and of course, Vincent's torch gave off light, but besides that, there wasn't much light at all.

He paused, concentrating on their bond. It was so strange. He felt… he felt Catherine's presence, right there with him!

_Your tired, Vincent. _He told himself. _You are not thinking clearly. Go home and eat, get some rest. You won't be able to find her if you are tired and hungry. Besides, she wouldn't go any further than this – it is too dark without a candle, torch or lantern!_

Vincent took a deep breath before deciding what to do. And when he did, he caught a whiff of something. A smell. A human smell. Catherine's smell. How he could smell it, he didn't know, but that was just another thing strange abut him.

_She has been in here! _Vincent realized. _Very recently, she has been in here; otherwise, her scent wouldn't still be here! I wonder if… dare I hope?_

He lifted his torch to look around the chamber. It was a dark and rather chilly place. And he could here the rumbling very well. But he couldn't see Catherine, except…

_What is that? _Vincent thought, curious. _Over there, in that corner?_ He crept a bit closer and once he realized what he was looking at, his heart was filled with overwhelming joy.

"Catherine!"

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"What of Catherine?" Vincent burst out, following Father across the chamber. "Is she all right? Will she be all right? What happened? And the baby? Is the baby well? Is her ankle broken? Catherine's ankle, of course. Will it heal properly? Is-"

"Vincent!" Father said, exasperated. "Not so many questions! You are worse than Mouse!"

"I apologize, Father." Vincent said sincerely. "I suppose you will tell me when it is time." Frustrated with not knowing Catherine's status, he slumped down on his chair with a sigh.

Father chuckled at his son's worried and still hopelessly dry muddied state. "She is fine, Vincent, just fine. A broken ankle, but aside from that's, she is fine."

Vincent sat up straighter. "And the baby?"

"Couldn't be better." Father assured his son.

"Good. Thank you, Father." Vincent breathed a sigh of relief as he looked over to his own bed, where Catherine was sleeping peacefully, her foot bound in a cast and bandages.

Father cleared his throat. "Er, Vincent? Your fur is still covered in mud?"

Vincent nodded, somewhat miserably. He still had to get a bit more mud out of his mane, and then his arms, legs and the entire rest of his body. And it was starting to itch something awful.

"Well, if there is anything that I can do, just let me know." Father offered, trying to give his son a little space. He then chuckled, realizing something.

"What is it?" Vincent asked. His suspicion was now aroused.

"You two are two of a kind." Father chuckled. "Two peas in a pod."

"How's that?" Vincent asked. He was a bit confused.

"She's broken her left ankle." Father pointed out. "And your right foot is broken as well."

Vincent sighed. "We've been rather clumsy of late, I suppose."

"It's humorous, Vincent." Father said, putting his hand on Vincent's shoulder. "Accidents happen. It was just my coincidence – it is funny."

Vincent nodded. "Shall I summon you when she awakens?"

Father nodded. "I would like to ask her a couple more questions, to ensure she's fine." He gave Vincent a glance. "If that it all right with you."

"All right with me?" Vincent seemed genuinely surprised. "Why should it matter if it's all right with me?"

Father cleared his throat a bit awkwardly. "Perhaps…" he searched for the words. " It is just up to you and her, both you and her." He tried to explain.

"What is my involvement?" Vincent sounded mystified.

Father sighed. "Vincent, we have spoken of her moving Below."

Vincent nodded. "As soon as the baby's chamber is finished, she will be moving down here, right?"

Father nodded. "And she's carrying your child. You two aren't… you are not married, but you do carry almost full responsibility for her, and the baby. You do realize that, don't you Vincent?"

Vincent was dumbfounded. "I do try to protect her, and keep her safe and-"

"You are very responsible in that area of it." Father assured Vincent. "But when it comes to decisions, such as decisions being made with the baby, and her, you are the responsible one." Father took a deep breath. "I asked if my checking over her later would be all right with you because… because it is usually the husband's job to dictate whether another man can touch his life, even if doctoral reasons. And you have, er, gotten close enough to being the husband for the rules to apply."

Though a bit embarrassed, Vincent was also a bit touched. "You approve of our relationship then, Father?"

Father sighed. "If I had it may way, none of this would have happened. I know you like her and she likes you, but I still feel that a… that a relationship between the two of you brings too much unhappiness. However," Father continued. "You are grown and can make your own decisions. I will not make them for you."

Vincent nodded slowly. "So then you aren't angry with me, Father?" he certainly hoped not.

Father shook his head. "Not angry. Not disappointed. I am happy for you, for I never thought you would ever find love. The idea takes a bit… getting used to. And you have very little defenses, Vincent." He continued matter-of-factly. "One hurtful word or rejection is a hard blow to your heart – it always has been. If… if she does find love elsewhere, I do not want you to be hurt. I…"

"She will not, Father." Vincent said. "I am sure of it."

Father sighed. "On one hand, Vincent, I would like to think your right, for I like to see you in love, and in a relationship. But other times, I do wish she would find love Above, for it would make no more temptations for-"

"A life that can never be." Vincent finished his father's sentence. "Father? Catherine and I have been talking and, suppose…"

"Suppose what?" Father was a tad bit impatient now.

"Suppose Catherine and I try to take our 'relationship' a bit further?" Vincent proposed. "Not too much further, but just a closer caress, and even… a kiss on a cheek?" he tried not to let himself get to hopeful on the latter.

Father sighed. "As I've told you before, Vincent, I do not wish for you to further your relationship with her. I strongly do not advise it. But then again, you are your own person and grown. You have sought my advice and I urge you to think on it carefully, but you must make your own decisions." Father was rather hoping for the guilt-trip on that one, because he knew Vincent had a soft heart and hated to disappoint anyone, but to his chagrin, Vincent seemed to decide to further their relationship.

"Thank you, Father." Vincent said. "Thank you, for your advise and treating me like-"

"Like what?"

"Like a man." Vincent said at last. "A grown, _human_ man."

Father cleared his throat somewhat awkwardly. "Yes, well, call me if she wakes up."

"That I will do." Vincent replied, watching Father leave his chamber. Then Vincent turned to Catherine, who was sleeping on his bed. _She looks like an angel when she sleeps,_ he mused. He quickly forced the thought out of his head though. If he thought that, well, one thought could leave to another and… and he just didn't want to think about it.

He thought back on his and Father's conversation and he retook his seat at the small table in his chamber. Ws Father right? Was he responsible for Catherine now, the way Kanin was responsible for Olivia? The way a husband was responsible for his wife? He shook his head, trying to comprehend it all. He understood where Father was coming from; if she lived Below, they had a baby, and they continued their relationship, they might as well be married, so his responsibilities as a father and a husband were needed. And Vincent didn't mind; he had been taking care of Catherine for several years now, and had a good idea of what his responsibilities were. And as for his duties as a father… well, he figured that would come by observing other fathers and doing what seemed best when the time came.

The baby. What of the baby? Vincent sighed, the matter making him almost sick to his stomach. What if… what if the baby did look like him? Vincent would love the baby just the same, and Catherine certainly would. Certainly, the entire community would love the child as is, and do nothing more than love, respect and care for it. But what if the baby was angry at Vincent, once the baby grew older, for being the one responsible for bringing him into a world that would become ultimate torture sometimes, of being forced to live underground whilst the other children went Above to laugh and play? To have people scream upon meeting him, instead of a polite handshake and a 'nice to meet you' like other people experienced? Vincent shook his head. Certainly, the child wouldn't be angry at him. Certainly, the child would accept itself just the way it was, right?

Suddenly he heard a voice outside his chamber, Meg's voice. "May I come in?" she asked tentatively.

"Yes, you may." Vincent consented.

Meg stepped in his chamber and saw her cousin lying asleep on the bed. "Is she all right?" she asked worriedly. She took Catherine limp hand. "Will she be all right? What of the baby?"

"She is fine." Vincent assured the younger woman. "Tired and she did seem to break her ankle somehow, but she is fine. The baby is as well."

Meg breathed a sigh of relief. She then looked over back at Vincent. "That's, er, good. Thank you for taking good care of her." She managed to say, while looking over him. It was still so hard to believe that such a creature – no, such a man, existed. That such a world existed underground. And that Catherine was in loved with a man who lived underground. Pregnant with a child that could be… could be completely… extraordinary. It was a far cry from whatever Meg had imagined her cousin doing, but she couldn't say she had any complaints; it was actually kind of neat, and very romantic and sweet.

"No thank you is needed, Meg." Was Vincent's reply. "I would do anything for her." He almost felt embarrassed to say those heartfelt words, but they came out before he could stop them.

"I'm glad to hear that." Meg smiled. "I was seriously beginning to think that there weren't any more good men left on the earth."

"You were?" Vincent was surprised. Surely, there was someone kind and loving Above for Catherine, surely.

"Yes, and I still think they aren't _on_ the earth." Meg said with a grin. "I see now that they've all gone under ground, is all."

Vincent couldn't help but chuckle at her humor. "I appreciate it." He said.

Meg looked over at her sleeping cousin. "So she was asleep when you found her?"

Vincent nodded. "Fast asleep, using her purse as her pillow."

"So you carried her back here?" Meg asked. "Did she wake up?"

Vincent shook his head. "No, she did not waken. And I suppose it is for the best; she needs much rest."

"She does." Meg agreed. "It will probably lessen the severity of her mood swings."

Vincent looked hopeful. "Really?"

"Really." Meg laughed at Vincent being so hopeful. Those mood swings really left them emotionally exhausted, didn't they?

Vincent searched for the words to say next, as to make polite conversation with Meg. It seems she had been in New York City for days and they had hardly had the time to speak each other, at least speak long enough to make what one could call a conversation. But luckily, Meg came to the rescue.

"So when Catherine moves Below, how will I get a hold of her?" Meg asked. "It's not like I can just call, right?"

Vincent shook his head. "No; we have no telephones."

"But a letter; where would I address a letter?" Meg wanted to know.

"To Peter's, to any one of our Helpers." Vincent instructed. "I will see that you get a list of names and addresses before you leave. Also, Catherine will still have an address Above – you could just send it there, if you should like."

Meg sighed contently. "Let me know as soon as the baby is born, will you?"

"As soon as it is born." Vincent promised. "Though, we had hoped you would be there for the birthing."

"Really?" Meg asked. "Me?"

Vincent nodded. "It will certainly put her at ease, for her to have such a close friend nearby. Also," he paused, "Also there may be… difficulties we may not foresee. Father, Peter and Mary will all be assisting in the birth, but in case three sets of hands are not enough-"

"I'll be there." Meg promised. She then looked curiously at him. "And you will, of course, right?"

Vincent ducked his head. "I suppose so."

"There's no supposing about it." Meg said. "You're going to be there the entire time, holding her hand and encouraging her, right?"

"Right." Vincent answered. "Have you spoken to your husband about this?"

Meg shook her head, a bit guiltily. "No; I was hoping on waiting until I got home." She sighed. "I still have yet to quite explain you to him. He will never believe me, I know it."

"Does Catherine often lie?" Vincent asked her gently.

Meg's head shot up. "What kind of question is that?"

"A simple one." Vincent answered. "Does she?"

Meg shook her head. "No, she doesn't lie too much."

"Have you ever lied to your husband?" Vincent asked next.

"No!" Meg exclaimed. "Never!"

"Then he can only assume you are telling the truth, once you tell him of me." Vincent said. "Correct? If he has any fairness-"

"It's not a matter of being fair." Meg tried to explain. "It's a matter of logic. No offense, but logically, you can not exist."

"But if Catherine is not lying and if neither are you than 'logically', you both are telling the truth." He told her. Those hours Father had kept him in his chamber as a child, teaching him all about philosophy had done some good after all.

Mg sighed. "You've got me cornered."

"Ask him to speak to Peter, if you think it might help." Vincent suggested. "And if all else fails, perhaps he could come for a visit himself."

Meg cringed. "Sorry if all of this talk is offensive, Vincent, but he's a psychiatrist and counselor. If things aren't absolutely logical, he must dig and search until he can prove that they are."

"Then we will let him dig and search." Vincent said simply. He stood up and went over to his bookshelf, looking at the titles of the books idly. "I have nothing to hide from him, only the rest of the world."

Meg sighed. "You don't understand, Vincent. He'll probably want to do a lot of talking to you. He's a physiatrist – he's probably going to make sure your not insane and he'll probably going to make sure that you mind is entirely…"

"Entirely human?" Vincent asked.

Meg nodded, a bit fearfully. She hoped he wouldn't have a fit of rage.

But he didn't. Instead, he pulled an ancient book by Richard Lovelace off his shelf and calmly began flipping through it. "It is not." He said finally.

Meg's mind began to whirl. "Your mind?"

"Yes." Vincent said as calm as ever, pausing to silently read over a passage in the book.

Meg was at a loss for words, and was so confused. "Did you just say your mind is not human?"

"No, that is not what I said at all; I said it is not entirely human." Still very calm and collected, he licked his fingers and began flipping though the book once more.

Meg was a bit shocked. He so openly admitted he was not entirely human, that part of his mind was a mind of a… an animal, an alien, or whatever the other part was. No shame, no holding back; it didn't seem to phase him one bit!

"Then if your mind is not all human-" Meg chose her words carefully, trying to remain as tactful as possible.

"Than what is it?" Vincent finished her question, carefully placing the book back on his shelf. "That is the question that I have been searching for the answer to my entire life. Mary said she once wished I came with an instruction manual."

Meg didn't know what to say to that. Here they were talking about something very serious, and here he was making jokes about it!

Vincent seemed to realize that she was at a loss for the words she felt as if she needed to say, so he continued talking. "No, we do not know the origin of me, of how I was created or born, and I have my doubts that we ever will. I know Father and Peter are still looking through endless accounts in history, trying to see if there is another being like me, or if there ever has been." He glanced at her sideways. "They don't think I know, but I do. I have heard them discussing, found the notes they've compared."

Meg was confused. "But I thought you lived down here so you _wouldn't_ get experimented on."

"It's not experimentation." Vincent explained. "It should be done, so they know what is best for me and what to expect from me, why I go in periods of madness. So we can know what to expect for Catherine and my baby. So we can know."

Meg nodded slowly. "Doesn't it embarrass you, or shame you, to be the way you are? Doesn't it embarrass you to talk about yourself in such a way?"

Vincent shook his head. "Sometimes, yes, it is very humiliating, but when I am speaking of it on my own will, like I am right now, no, it does not shame me. I am what I am, and no amount of talking, spells or hoping will change that."

"Spells?" Meg was intrigued. "You don't think sorcery was involved, do you?"

Vincent shrugged. "Could be. While I don't believe in magic, I do believe there are some people in the world who possess powers. Some of them good, some of them evil."

"So, let's say you are a result of sorcery." Meg said. "Would you have come out of good or evil magic?"

Vincent shook his head. "I cannot say. There are so many possibilities out there… and that is the problem with powers and sorcery – you do not need logic to explain them. So if you believe that such powers and sorcery exist, you never need logic to explain anything." He paused before continuing. "If something of my past posed a great threat to me, Catherine, our child, or anyone else close to my heart, Narcissa would have let us know long ago."

"Narcissa?" Meg asked. "Catherine mentioned her before; who is she?"

"Narcissa is an old woman who lives Below." Vincent said, thinking back. He chuckled. "She seemed old when I was a child too, but she could not have been that old then, but then again," his forehead creased, remembering her fogged eyes and wrinkles the first time he saw her. "But then again, maybe she did look the same. She always mysterious in the aspect." He thought a little harder. "How old is she?"

"And who is she?" Meg pressed. "So she's an old woman who lives Below; so is Mary! What's so unusual about this Narcissa?"

Vincent chuckled. "Don't let Mary hear you say that." He leaned forward and whispered into Meg's ear. "But between you and me, I think your right."

"I heard that, Vincent." Mary stepped into his chamber without asking permission, with a tray of herb tea and hot soup in hand. "And don't you think there won't be consequences for making fun of your elders."

"Mary." Vincent said, with mock debonair, gliding over to her as if on a fancy ballroom floor. He bowed impressively. "Did I ever tell you how stunning you look this night?"

Meg hid her giggles as Mary gave him a glare, trying to hide her smile as well. She tried to give him a frown. "Nice try, Vincent."

"Mary, you have a face with… with character." Vincent tried another tactic, still not losing his trying to be suave and have the air of importance around him. "You have lines, wrinkles – and that is a marvelous thing." He added the last part quickly. "It shows you character, your determination – it shows that you know who you are!"

"Vincent, stop it right now before you make me sick." She gently pushed him aside so she could sit the tray on the nightstand next to Catherine. "And if you ever try to act that smooth and urbane again, I swear to you, I will give you a paddling harder than the time I gave you when you broke my crystal vase my mother gave me – and the same place too. Don't think I won't."

Vincent turned a light shade of pink, but luckily neither one of the woman could notice under his golden fur. "I compliment your dashing looks and you threaten to hit me?" he asked, pretending to be hurt. "How crushing!"

"He has not acted this way since he was sixteen." Mary told Meg. "It's been so long, its frightening me."

"I think it's cute." Meg giggled. "A bit of monkey business never hurt anyone."

"You see, Mary?" Vincent asked. "It's cute. She said so."

"Is that what you want to be, cute?" Mary couldn't help but laugh. "Oh, poor Catherine. I have a feeling this child's best friend is going to be its daddy, and its daddy will probably spend more of his time in the corner than the baby." She turned to Vincent. "But on a serious note, Vincent, can you try to feed Catherine the soup, or at least give it to her when she wakes up? She has not eaten since breakfast, I am sure."

Vincent nodded, the boyish fun leaving his face as he remembered that his love was still lying still in her sleep. Mary nodded approvingly as she turned and left the room.

Vincent carefully went over to his bed where Catherine laid and carefully sat down on the bed beside the sleeping figure. He stared at her for a long while before Meg decided she had better go. It seemed as if he had forgotten she was in the room.

"I'll just slip out." She said quietly to Vincent. She started to leave but he stopped her.

"No, you are fine." He said. "Actually, I was hoping to talk to you whist she was asleep."

"Talk to me?" Meg asked, surprised. "Whatever about?"

"About… things." Vincent replied. "First of all, Catherine. I, er, have not, well, er-"

"Vincent, by all means, using words would be nice, please!" Meg threw her hands up in the air. "I can't understand if all you so is give unintelligible grunts!"

"I do not know how big the baby will be." Vincent said finally. "Or quite how being in labor works. I also have seen… very little of Catherine's frame." He blushed uncontrollably. "But it seems she it a bit too petite to hold a child of mine."

"She's not all that small." Meg said. She sized him up. "You couldn't have been that big of a baby."

"Are you saying I am foolish for worrying about it?" Vincent asked.

Meg shook her head. "Not foolish, but I wouldn't worry so much about it. I think Catherine will be fine."

"You do?" Vincent asked.

"I do." Meg verified. "She's strong, healthy, and loved. I think she and the baby will both be fine."

Vincent gave a sigh of relief. Meg eyed him carefully. "You don't look so good." She commented.

"I feel fine." Vincent said.

"No you don't." Meg judged. "Where are you sleeping the night?"

"Don't worry about me." Vincent told her.

"Well, wherever it is, go bathe; finish getting the mud out of your fur and get to bed!" Meg instructed.

"Who will watch over-"Vincent tried.

"She's sleeping, Vincent, not dying!" Meg exclaimed, rolling her eyes. "I'll watch over her – now get to bed!"

Vincent gave Catherine a fond look before leaving his chamber, which he had just gotten kicked out of.

It seemed that over the past several weeks, he and Catherine had faced every problem they could possibly ever

face. Maybe starting now, things would start to go as planned; he certainly hoped so.


	22. Chapter 22

22

**Authors Note: I'm almost finished writing the story bangs on wood. Alleluia, being done by Christmas seems highly probable!!!!!!!! Yay me!!! And remember, pointing out various scenes, moments, lines, OOC, and all of that is very helpful for me, so keep 'em coming, and thanks for all of your kindness!!!!**

Father looked up from the book he was reading. "Has she wakened?" he asked Vincent.

Vincent shook his head. "It doesn't look like she will until later tonight, perhaps not until eleven or twelve o'clock tonight. She must be very tired, or very emotionally exhausted. Meg is watching over her." Vincent loosened the clasp of his cloak and let it fall to the floor.

Father looked at his son curiously. "What is it that you're doing?" he asked Vincent.

"I am going to finish combing my fur out once and for all." Vincent stated while grabbing the comb he had taken with him as he began tackling his mane.

Father sighed, returning to his book. "Perhaps we should check over some of the older pipes, make sure they aren't going to bust like the other one just did."

Vincent sighed, knowing when Father said 'we', he meant just Vincent. "I will check it over tomorrow, Father." Vincent promised, pulling hair out of his head with the comb.

"Vincent!" Father scolded his son. "Don't just pull the comb through like that! Start at the bottom and work your way up gently, like this." He took the comb from his son's enormous furred hand and began combing the mud out of Vincent's hair.

"All right, I understand." Vincent said, reaching for the comb back, but Father withheld it. "Almost done, there." He said. "Your hair is completely combed out."

Vincent looked in the looking glass which hung in Father's chamber. It did indeed, look fully groomed. Now it was time to comb out the rest of his body that was normally hidden from other people. "Thank you, Father." He said. Next, he rolled up his sleeve and began combing out the fur on his arms.

Father watched intently for a few moments before he spoke up. "It might be better just to cut and shave it off." He said.

"No!" Vincent snapped. That was the last thing he wanted – how humiliating.

"It would grow back in a matter of days." Father pointed out, using his cane to help him stand up as he hobbled over to the water basin next to his bed. "And in the meantime, no one else will see it anyway."

"No, Father." Vincent protested. "I…" his voice trailed as he tried to think of the real reason he didn't want to do it.

"You what?" Father asked, picked up an old wooden box out of his nightstand and bringing it over to where Vincent stood at the table, struggling to comb his fur.

"I have suffered enough humiliation because of my appearance and nature of late, Father." Vincent found the words. "I needn't more."

"I understand." Father said. "Even though no one will see it." He handed Vincent the box anyways. "Here; you should have had it long ago, anyhow."

Vincent nodded, not fully understanding what Father was talking about, at .least not until he opened the box. Inside were antique shaving supplies. When Vincent looked closer at the antique razor, he saw the patented date on it; 1990.

"My father gave it to me and told me to pass it on to my son." Father explained. "Devin left before I could give it to him, and besides, he didn't know that… that he was my son then, and still I wonder if he would hardly care for the honor. And then you, well, you would never _need_ such supplies, and I never use it, so…"

"Thank you, Father." Vincent thanked his father. "Thank you just the same; I appreciate it."

Father nodded, covering up the slightly awkward moment with a cough. "Are you sure you do not want to at least try?"

Vincent nodded. "I am sure, but if I change my mind, I will be sure to let you know."

"If you are sure, I will not attempt to persuade you otherwise." Father said, sitting down, returning to his

book.

Vincent gritted his teeth as he pulled the teeth of the comb through the fur on his arm, pulling some of the fur out with it. It was such a tedious process, and Vincent made a silent vow to never, ever, let mud dry on him again like that. It was such a pain, having fur whilst everyone else just had normal skin. Not only was it embarrassing, it was exceedingly frustrating to take care of.

Bur finally Vincent finished combing out his muddied arm. "There!" he said, proud to have gotten his fur golden again.

"But there is still your other arm" Father reminded Vincent. "And the front and back of your neck. And your back. And your chest, all the way down to the bottom of your feet."

Vincent moaned a bit. That would be horrible, and take days, to comb out. Wearily, he glanced over at the old-fashioned shaving supplies sitting on the table next to him. "Do you really think they will work?" Vincent asked.

"Of course!" Father exclaimed, getting up from his chair. "They are only-"

"Eighty-nine years old." Vincent finished. "Do you think they will work?"

Father thought a moment. "It has been quite some time since I'm actually used them, but they were the finest - see?" he showed Vincent the engraved words on the razor. "It won awards in France and England!"

"I see that." Vincent said, noting Father seemed very proud of the relic. And of course, he was; Father didn't have all that many things that he could say his father gave to him.

"And if it doesn't work," Father carefully rinsed the dust off of the razor. "I always have some tools that will work. Hopefully this will be similar - and something you can do yourself. Come here." He instructed Vincent, motioning to the water basin.

Vincent obeyed, cautiously walking over to Father and the water basin, curiosity arisen. He had seen other men shave their faces... countless times, but had never actually handled a razor himself - he never had to. Instead of whiskers that grew into a beard, he had more of what could be described as bristles that certainly didn't grow.

"Give me your arm." Father instructed.

Vincent rolled up his sleeved and held up his arm to Father, the one he hadn't combed out yet. Carefully, Father wet the fur thoroughly on his arm and lathered it up with some soap that Olivia and Rebecca made.

Next, Father took a hold of the razor and held it over Vincent's arm. "Are you ready?" Father asked Vincent. "This will not hurt, unless you make a sudden move. And if you do, I will wind up cutting you and it will bleed. Understand?"

Vincent nodded, a smile playing on his lips. Once, when they were still children, Devin had tried to shave his face, where he was sure he was growing a beard (at age twelve!) and came out a bloody mess. He made Vincent swear not to tell, and still, twenty-five years later, not another word had been said about it. It would definitely start a good reminiscing conversation between him and Devin though, next time Vincent saw his brother.

"I am serious." Father warned, noting the hint of a smile. "And once it starts bleeding, it will not stop!" he shudders. "I fear the day Mouse starts growing facial hair."

"Don't worry, Father; I understand you." Vincent said, ridding himself of his smile, though it took some effort. The thought of Mouse shaving seemed so ridiculous, and the idea of him with a razor was indeed frightening.

Father carefully starting scratching at Vincent's arm with the razor. And slowly, yet still a lot faster than combing it would have been, the mud began to disappear – of course along with the short fur that layered his arms.

Every so often, Father brushed cut fur off Vincent's arm with a towel and continued scratching with the razor. It certainly worked different than the tools Kanin, Cullen, and the other men used, but that was all right; so long as it worked.

Finally, Father began rinsing Vincent's arm off. And what Vincent saw made his eyes open wide; his fur, below his elbow, was completely gone! Vanished! And all he was left with was light tan-pinkish skin, skin that he had only rarely seen before.

Vincent groaned, If he thought he looked horrible with fur, without it… "Father, thank you, but perhaps we should just comb the rest of it out."

Father gave Vincent 'the look'. "Vincent we managed to shave off your lower arm fur in two minutes. It would have taken you at least forty-five with that comb. And no one will see it, and it'll grow back soon. Now if you'll proceed to take of your shirt…"

Vincent sighed, knowing his father was right. It was simply impractical to spend hours combing out his fur when you could take one hour to shave it all of and let it be done with. It would grow back, and he'd just have to take extra care in the mud from there on out.

He removed his leather vest and then began to unbutton his shirt. Once finished with that, he lifted off his white undershirt, revealing his bare chest, covered with mud-covered fur.

"It's really quite simple, you see." Father instructed Vincent. "All you need to do is thoroughly wet your fur. And then after that…"

Father went on and on, Vincent only half-listening. He felt Catherine wake stirring, and knew she was waking up. And he also gave a small shudder from the cool air that Below tended to have, a good 65 degrees all year round. Without fur, the next couple weeks would be hideous. But then again, everyone else Below did it, so he could too, at least for a few weeks until his fur grew back.

"Understand?" Father questioned his son.

Vincent nodded. "Yes. If I have any questions, do you mind if I shall ask?"

"Of course not!" Father said. "Not at all."

"Catherine is awakening." Vincent said, taking the razor from Father. "She might need tending to."

Father nodded. "I will be back." He left the chamber to check on Catherine.

Vincent had an idea. If he took these to a bathing chamber, it could be done must easier. So quickly, he once again donned his shirt and cloak, and taking the soap and shaving kit with him, he walked down the hall to his bathing chamber.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"Father, I'm fine, save my ankle and couple scratches and bruises." Catherine insisted.

"Humph. How does your head feel?" Father responded, using a small light to look into her eye pupils.

Catherine sighed. "Fine until you stuck that dammed light in my eye." She laughed. "How did you find me?" she asked on a more serious note.

"Vincent did." Meg answered for Father. "They searched for several hours, but he was finally able to find you, thanks to your… link, or whatever you call it."

"Their bond." Father corrected. "Well, young lady," he addressed Catherine. "You're going to be fine."

"Good – thank you." Catherine said.

"But you are to be on bed rest until your ankle heals." Father continued.

Catherine's mouth hung open. "No! I can't! I have work, stuff to do! I have to go to work, and-"

"Too bad." Father said firmly. "I will not have you galloping around on your ankle the way Vincent does his foot. You are pregnant and one more fall can do serious damages. And any extra damage is something we cannot afford."

Catherine nodded, knowing Father had a point. "How long until my ankle heals?" she asked Father, in hopes of him saying 'in a week', though she knew the chances were a million to one.

"We'll give it at least six weeks." Father said decidedly.

"Six weeks?" Catherine cried out. "That's a month and a half!"

"Yes, I'm quite aware of how long six weeks is, Catherine." Father said dryly. "And you will stay in this bed, er, another bed, until your ankle heals. For the baby's sake, for my son's sake, for your sake; do you understand?"

Catherine nodded, subdued. "Yes – I understand. But what of work? Moreno won't like it if I'm-"

"I'll talk to him – and Joe again." Meg offered. "Joe and I will get him to understand."

Father looked at Meg sharply. "Talk to Joe? Joe Maxwell? About what?"

_Oops, he doesn't know that Catherine tried to tell Joe? _Meg gasped. _Oh dear…_

"I basically told him that I was under a big strain with this pregnancy, and that I'm going to have to take lots and lots of time off." Catherine attempted to lie. Well, not exactly a lie, more like a half-truth, or a white lie.

"Right." Father said doubtfully. He cleared his throat. "Well, Vincent is all prepared to bed down on a cot in my chamber tonight, so why don't you spend the night in here, and we will see about moving you to the baby's chamber tomorrow?"

Catherine's eyes widened. "Is it ready?"

Father shrugged. "Well, it is nothing glamorous, compared to your life Above, and it is nothing special as of right now, but it will suffice. We will just move a bed in there, and some other furniture, and it will be perfectly livable. Goodnight, Catherine."

He turned to leave, but Catherine stopped him. "Where is Vincent?" Catherine asked, puzzled.

"He's, er, working on the mud." Father explained. He decided to spare Vincent the embarrassment and not tell Catherine how he was working on it.

"Oh." Catherine said softly. "Thank you so much, Father, for everything. Goodnight."

"Goodnight." Father said again and left the room, resisting a strange urge he had to kiss her forehead, kissing her goodnight, like he would Devin or Vincent. It wasn't like she was his child or anything.

_She almost is. _Father realized. _I hope her and Vincent will realize their grave mistake before then, but if they do not realize it soon, then there might be a Joining Day, and then she might _become_ my daughter._

He hardly understood his feelings on the matter. On one hand, he wanted it for Vincent, the love of a woman. It was something he had hoped and prayed for thirty-seven years. And yet, now that it was happening, it was starting to have second thoughts. What if she just lost interest in him? What if she just felt sorry for him? What would happen if some rich suitor proposed to her? Rich and handsome? And pleasant? Catherine was a nice girl, he knew, and truly did love Vincent, most likely. But sometimes people make mistakes in their relationships and marriages and while it can scar some people, what it would do to Vincent… it would kill him.

But then again, why should he discourage them? If Catherine left him now, he would still die of a broken heart. He might as well let them progress their relationship naturally, and let them get as much happiness as they can before the certain problems happen.

What? Was he actually thinking that it could possibly be? No, it couldn't. It just couldn't – it was impossible. _What did you have to drink, Jacob? _He asked himself wearily as he stepped into his chamber. _You're being nonsensical. Get some sleep, and you will be thinking more clearly in the morning._

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

After carefully checking to make sure no one was in his bathing chamber, Vincent once again took off his cloak and shirt. It wasn't an easy thing to do anymore, taking off his shirt. Shrugging it off hurt his ribs like they were on fire.

He then commenced to unbuckle his belt, and take off his pants. And then, now relieved from his clothes, he stepped into the spring.

_Ah, now this feels nice. _Vincent thought, lying in the naturally warm water. _I could just stay in here all night. _But he knew that wouldn't be a good thing – he needed his rest after such a laboring day, and still had some sleep to catch up on from the journey and the pipe repairing.

Taking a deep breath, he dove under the water, kicking his legs to help him get down to the bottom of the spring. Of course, this was impossible; as a child, he and the other children used to dare each other to swim to the bottom of the spring, but of course, they couldn't; they could only swim down a couple feet. Vincent could go the farthest, always. His long must have had a greater air capacity or greater strength or something, and it was something he had spent a lot of time boasting on when he was young, no older than twelve or thirteen.

_I wonder how far I could swim now. _Vincent wondered. _I have grown and my lungs have strengthened; perhaps I could swim to the bottom now._

Vincent kept paddling to the bottom. He had his eyes opened, but couldn't see the bottom, even though it was clear, clean spring water. Finally, his lungs ran out of air, so he quickly paddled his way up to the surface.

Once again, above the surface, he took a deep breath of air, filling his lungs with the much needed air. _That water must be deeper than we thought, _Vincent thought. _If I still cannot swim to the bottom._

Vincent took a look at his now bare arm, with no fur whatsoever. It looked so odd, and as much as he thought he hated having fur, he hated not having it even more.

Vincent brought his leg out of the water and scrubbed it feverishly with his hand, but still the mud did not come off. He was going to have to shave the fur off; there really was no other way around it.

With a sigh, he grabbed the homemade soap and lathered up his fur with it until it was absolutely covered in the soft, mushy stuff. Then he tried to gently scratch at the fur, as Father did.

Whenever the other men shaved, they just let their razors glide over their skin. But the old-fashioned kind, the really old-fashioned kind that Father had, was more of a scratch kind.

He couldn't recall ever seeing Father shave his face before. Even when Vincent was a young boy, Father still had his beard. Then again, could he imagine Father without his beard? No, imagining Father without his beard would be like trying to imagine Cullen without his carvings or like Vincent without his… with his fur! It couldn't be done.

_What will the baby be like? _Vincent wondered for the millionth time. _What will be his or her trademark? Everyone has one. With some people, it's obvious, with others, not so obvious. For example, mine is obvious; my trademark is how I look. Mouse's trademark is his inventions. Father's trademark is his wise mind, British accent and his beard, the three things that make him Father. Without any of those three things… I wonder how we would think of him. Still very highly, but it would seem as if he were another person!_

_What will the baby's name be?" _Vincent continued to wonder._ Catherine and I still haven't figured that out. She wants me to choose – I suppose she wants be to feel more involved, but how could I possibly choose? And what right do I have? She is carrying the child, she should think up the name. But what names would I name it, if it were completely up to me?_

He began going through all of the names that popped into his head, all of the popular ones anyways. 'John' was the first one that came to mind, which made Vincent grimace – 'John' only made him think of Paracelsus. _I would never, ever name a child after such a man. _Vincent thought decidedly.

'Jacob', of course, was an obvious choice. Vincent felt he could never repay Father for all of his fatherly love and kindness, and while he knew he didn't have to, he felt so grateful for it. The least he could do was name his first child after Father, right? And that was tradition somewhere over in England, wasn't it? To name the first son after the father? Perhaps it wasn't where Father was from, since Vincent had very little ideas of what Father's life was like before Below, but still, it would definitely be a kind gesture.

Vincent went and lay back lazily in the water, trying to keep his mind off of the work at hand, which just was plain humiliating and degrading. Instead, he tried to think up more names.

_Charles. _He thought. _That is Catherine's father's name – perhaps the name Charles? But then again, if we were to follow that tradition over in England, we would have to name the child 'Vincent. That would not only get overly confusing, but the idea of naming a child after me does not feel right._

_And what will the baby call me? _Vincent wondered as he sank deeper into the naturally warm water. _He cannot call me 'Father' – that would get overwhelmingly confusing also. The other children Below call their fathers 'Dad' – is that what the baby will call me?_

Vincent shook his head. He still couldn't believe he was going to have a child. It still seemed so… unbelievable. He was going to be completely responsible for another person's life. Completely responsible, even though it seemed sometimes he could barely take care of himself. And to think that sometimes, a person's life depends on whether they do something straightaway, or procrastinate for only a moment. That moment could change everything, for the better, or worse, for the worse. And this child was going to look up to him, which was a frightening thought; he was going to be a role model.

_You already are! _Vincent realized as more of his fur fell into the water. _So many of the children look up to you, count on you. Mouse idolizes you and you know it. Thomas, Lincoln, Kipper and the other boys try not to show it, but they greatly admire you, as well. Don't worry about being humble, Vincent – its true. These children really look up to you. To some of them, you are their role model. They'd like to be like you._

The thought seemed so simple, yet to Vincent, it was revolutionary. He had been setting so many examples for the children for so many years…

_And not the best of examples, either. _Vincent realized, recalling several situations that _could_ have gone better had he acted differently. But then again, they weren't bad children. Maybe Vincent was doing something right.

_I hope so. _Vincent thought. _That is all I can hope for._

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"'Mary, you have a face with… with character'." Meg mocked Vincent, retelling the story to Catherine. "'You have lines, wrinkles – and that is a marvelous thing'. It shows you character, your determination – it shows that you know who you are!'"

Catherine busted into a fit of giggles. "That's what he said?"

"And probably more, I just can't remember it." Meg laughed. "I never took him for being the comedian type."

"Neither did I." Catherine laughed. "It seems he's been trying to turn over a new leaf of late. Kind of trying to make everything in good humor, like a thirteen-year-old boy would do."

"It's a good habit, to keep situations light." Meg said. "And now since he's going to have a child soon, that becomes especially essential. I have a feeling that once the baby gets older, that kid and Vincent will be wrestling on the floor and having spitball contests."

Catherine giggled. "Well, maybe not the latter, but I can definitely see him wrestling on the floor with a kid or two."

Meg sighed dreamily. "Ah, you are going to be so happy together."

"I hope so." Catherine said nervously. "I can only hope so."

"Of course you will be!" Meg said! "You both love each other more than anything and want each other more than anything. I hardly doubt that love or want will fade, either. And, sure, you'll have your disagreements and arguments, but you'll get over it; most couples usually do."

"Or don't." Catherine reminded. "Don't you know what the divorce rate was last year?"

"The divorce rate Below?" Meg asked. "I can't be sure, but I'm guessing about zero?"

Catherine sighed. "Well, these circumstances are different. But then again…"

"The again what?"

"Then again it's different in a good way." Catherine finished. "He's so… special, loving, amazing… there's not an evil or cruel bone in his body."

"Now I doubt that." Meg laughed. "Everyone has done something wrong."

"Not Vincent." Catherine disagreed. "He hasn't done anything wrong unless an accident or in self-defense, or in someone else's defense, I'm sure."

"So he's never lied?" Meg asked doubtfully. "Never back talked his elders as a child?"

"I mean he's never done anything _wrong_, like unforgivable!" Catherine said. "He's just… so hard to explain. And I'm sure whatever he has done wrong, he's felt so guilty about it… it's so hard to explain!"

"Seems like it." Meg said. "You keep saying it over and over."

Catherine sighed. "I told you before, that he's killed people, in my defense. But he's not exactly guilty, is he?"

"Not really, I suppose." Meg agreed. "Shouldn't you know more about this than I do? You are the one who went to law school."

"But I'm biased." Catherine reminded Meg.

Meg flipped her hand. "I wouldn't worry about it. So, tell me about it."

"About what?" Catherine asked.

"About the story of Vincent and Catherine." Meg said. "You two have hardly told me anything."

Catherine thought a moment. "I told you how we met, right?"

Meg nodded. "What's the next major event that happened after that?"

"The subway slasher." Catherine said right away, the horrifying event coming immediately to mind. She had hardly known Vincent then, and had suspected him of the killings. Now she could hardly believe she had thought that. "Now, I'm sure I told you about that."

Meg nodded. "The karate teacher or something ended up doing it? Not yours, but that other guy? He ended up falling into the abyss?" she shuddered at the thought, having seen the big hole only days before.

Catherine nodded. "And then next… there were these old people being illegally frightened out of their homes. It was horrid. Vincent saved the day then, right before these men went and killed me, along with all the elderly people."

Meg shuddered. "That's all you're going to tell me about it?"

"Well," Catherine said slowly. "It's not exactly pleasant to think of. I… I started thinking I was falling I love at that point with another man – it was before Vincent and I actually had a serious 'dating' relationship. But quickly I realized that was a big mistake. And I think it tore Vincent up."

"So how did it happen?" Meg asked.

"How exactly did what happen?" Catherine asked.

"How exactly did you and Vincent start 'dating'?" Or 'courting', more accurately?"

Catherine shrugged. "Probably soon after we got to really know each other… maybe a year after our meeting, or a couple weeks before? Somewhere around there."

"Did he ask you if you wanted to get to know each other on a more personal level, or did it just evolve somewhat, or did he ask you out, or-"

"I guess it evolved." Catherine said with a shrug. "I mean, he had an interest in me from day one, I think. But the bond began right around then too. And I realized relatively quickly about my interest in him and it just kind of sailed from there – very slowly."

"So, did you ask him about taking the relationship further?" Meg asked. "What'd he say? What'd you say? I take it that it didn't go so well because, well, of earlier."

Catherine sighed, angry at herself. "I overreacted and acted like a big jerk." She fumed. "I should have been more sensitive and more caring. I should have been thinking about how he felt, how he thought about it. But instead I went and acted like a big sex maniac and ruined everything."  
" You didn't ruin a thing." Meg told her.

"How would you know?" Catherine asked. "You weren't there. You didn't hear the awful things that came out of my mouth."

"I know because I talked to Vincent." Meg said simply. "He's aware of what you really mean and what a result of hormones is. He's aware of what you want, I think, and I think he's also very well aware of your point of view. And," she added sneakily. "Between you and me, I think he wants to take the relationship further, much further than you want to."

"Really?" Catherine was impressed. "Impossible – he can't possibly want it more than I do."

Meg nodded. "Well, it's something that we didn't really bring up, it probably not being appropriate Below and all, but I think he wants it ten times more than you could ever want it. Ten million times more."

"You really think so?"

Meg again nodded. "Yes, I do. I think the two of you need to talk about it again."

Catherine shook her head. "No. I don't want to cause any more strain. Its stupid – it's not important."

"It is important." Meg argued. "Very important. Studies have shown that people who make love more often usually have a better lasting relationship than people who don't often."

"Well, I'm not going to bring it up." Catherine said decidedly. "At least, not for awhile. He's very… naïve, shall we say? I don't want to rush him. Besides, I'm enjoying our pace kind of. He's so sweet."

"He is very sweet." Meg said. "And he seems very fond of you. And if the word 'obsessed' didn't seem freaky and stalker-ish, I'd use that word."

"'Stalker-ish'?" Catherine giggled. "Is that a word?"

"Depends; are you asking me or Webster?" Meg asked with a laugh.

Catherine just laughed again. "Argh!" she gave a little moan. "I was having such an interesting conversation that I forgot about my ankle."

"Does it hurt?" Meg asked, concerned.

Catherine nodded, trying to hide the misery. "Yes."

"Want some ice to put on it?" Meg asked.

"Where will you get the ice?" Catherine asked somewhat sarcastically. "Try the water basin over there – there might be cool water in it. You could dip a rag in it and put it on my ankle – it's better than nothing."

Meg walked over to the water basin and found a clean rag sitting beside it. She picked it up and dampened it with the cool water what was sitting in the pitcher, wrung it out, and then brought it over to the bed, laying it gently over Catherine's ankle. "Feel better?" Meg asked.

Catherine nodded. "A little." She sighed. "Where's Vincent? I want to see him before he goes to bed."

"He probably already has." Meg said. "He's had quite a few long days in a row."

Catherine shook her head. "I think he's awake. I don't know; I just have a feeling."

Meg wrinkled her brow. "I still do not understand this whole bond thing."

"There's no logic or reason to it." Catherine said. "Its one of those things you just have to accept."

"How come he can feel you better than you can feel him?"

Catherine shrugged. "I think he has more of a gift than I do, for one thing." She said. "He seems to be really sensitive to that, know what a lot of people are thinking or feeling. Father and Mary make it sound as if he was that way when he was a child. And also, I think its kind of God's special gift to him, to us, for our relationship. For what he lacks in his nature and appearance, our bond can make up for, so to speak. But then again," she reasoned, "Even without our bond, I think I'd still love him half to death."

"What happens if you love half to death twice?" Meg wondered out loud.

Catherine laughed. "I suppose the same thing that happens if your scared half to death twice; you die!"

Meg wrinkled her brow. "Do you think one could die from too much love?"

Catherine thought before she shook her head. "From too much love, no. From being loved too much, in the wrong extent, it could happen."

"What do you mean?" Meg asked. "Like if a parent spoiled their child so much that the child didn't know how to work for a living, so the child died or something?"

Catherine nodded. "Or something of the like." She sighed dreamily. "Sometimes I've wondered if you could die from too much joy."

"All women in love have had reason to think that, I'm sure!" Meg laughed. "So, tell me more stories."

"What stories do you already know?" Catherine asked.

Meg shrugged. "Very few. Just tell me any random one; even if I've heard it before, I'd like to hear it from your point of view."

Catherine thought back, trying to find the perfect story to tell her cousin. She wanted to find one that didn't pain her to think about, one that didn't remind her about how many times she had almost lost Vincent or that Vincent had almost lost her. She didn't want to think of all the horrible things that had happened to the two of them over the past couple years.

"Well, once Paracelsus tried to blow us all up, one Winterfest." Catherine said.

"I think I've heard this one before, but continue anyways." Meg said.

"Well- I want to tell you one you haven't heard." Catherine said abruptly. "How about the one with Lisa? Do you know who Lisa is?"

"Who's Lisa?" Meg asked.

"I take it that's a 'no.'" Catherine answered her own question. "Lisa was a girl who used to live Below. When she and Vincent were young, in their teens perhaps, Vincent was crushing on her."

"Oh, how sweet." Meg said. "She was nice about it, right?"

"Of course!" Catherine exclaimed. ""She crushed on him too! Vincent doesn't realize this, but he's one hell of a hunk; for most women it takes a little while to figure it out, but once they do-"

"They get all jealous of you." Meg finished. "Never happened to me; I married to nerdiest out of the school. No one was jealous."

Catherine laughed. "Don't talk about Mike that way!"

"It's true!" Meg insisted. "Anyways, back to your story about Liza."

"Lisa." Catherine corrected. "Well, he fondled her a bit. I don't have all the details, but he didn't do much – probably just stroked her cheek or something. The details – I'm not sure of. But he hurt her a bit. And that's the reason he's the way he is right now – because of Lisa."

"Ow." Meg groaned. "And he's scarred for life now, right?"

"It seems like it." Catherine said. "And it seems Lisa still has some problems."

"What do you mean?" Meg asked.

"Well, to make a long story short, she's a prima ballerina now, and came back to the tunnels recently for a visit. She tried to pick right up in the lovey-dovey area, and-"

"And Vincent told her off, right?" Meg asked. She was a bit alarmed.

"In so many words, he told her that what they had was in the past, that her life was Above now, and his was not. They had both changed, et cetera. She was pretty upset over it, I think, but I think she's over it now."

"Poor girl." Meg sympathized. "Remember when you were crushing on that thirty-year-old in Hawaii?"

Catherine couldn't help but blush. "He was cute!" she insisted. "He was six-foot something, had such a nice-toned body, grey eyes…" she sighed dreamily.

"And you're practically engaged to Vincent." Meg reminded Catherine teasingly. "And he must be about fifty now, his blond curls probably all gone, now replaced by a shiny head."

"Ugh!" Catherine groaned. "Oh well, I was only fifteen, and made a big fool out of myself anyways. I was overly obvious, wasn't I?"

"Ah, I'm sure he doesn't remember it now." Meg said with a flip of her hand. "And if he does, he probably just looks back on it and laughs. And it probably happened to him over a million times – he was a life-guard, for Heaven's sake!"

"Crushing on a life guard… most every girl's experience at some point or another." Catherine observed. "You crushed on him too, right?"

"Of course!" Meg exclaimed, laughing. "But I just didn't flirt at all, and didn't make it obvious at all. I nearly froze whenever he spoke to me." She sighed. "But you and Vincent… ah, I'd read that novel."

"Perhaps Vincent and I will write it someday." Catherine laughed. "But you have to promise to buy up a hundred million copies, to ensure it's a best-seller."

"I hear Brian Epstein; The Beatles' manager did something of the like, didn't he?" Meg asked, a bit vague on her entertainment trivia.

Catherine nodded. "Something of the like. But why write a book if no one is going to read it? If it becomes a bestseller, than everyone will want to read it."

Meg nodded. "Makes sense, I guess. So, you ever have taken an interest in writing?"

"Me?" Catherine was dumbfounded. "Heck no! I couldn't write if I wanted to!"

"I hear everyone has at least one novel inside of them." Meg said. "They just have to get it out. And if you use a typewriter, it wouldn't take very long; I think the Hobbit is only 120,000 words long."

"Only?" Catherine groaned. "That seems like a lot of words!"

"It is, but Tolkien's next books were ten times longer." Meg reminded Catherine.

"Not ten times longer." Catherine argued. "_The Lord of the rings_ trilogy is only about twice the size of the Hobbit, each book."

Meg rolled her eyes. "Okay, so it's six times as big as the Hobbit – details, details." She looked over at Vincent's bookshelf curiously. "Does he read Tolkien?"

Catherine shrugged. "We've never talked about it; is there any Tolkien on the shelf?"

"I'll look." Meg wandered over to the shelf. "Hmm… how are these books organized?"

"In a very precise way." Catherine said. "He has his own system – don't ask me how it works." She sighed sadly. "Sometimes he has a bit too much time of his hands, unfortunately, so he moves boulders that needn't be moved or rearranges books that don't need rearranged."

"Well, with you moving down here, and with the baby being born, that should change, right?" Meg asked hopefully. "Between taking care of and spending time with the baby, his regular work and time with the children and adults, and spending time with you, and time to eat, sleep and breath, he should be pretty busy all the time now, right?"

"Well, hopefully not overly busy, but busy enough not to feel lonesome or left out." Catherine said. "I don't think he feels that way all that often of late, ever since we've gotten closer, but sometimes, he feels so terribly lonesome or feels like he's missing out on something – I can feel it."

"Can't he ever go Above without worrying about what people think of him?" Meg asked.

Catherine nodded. "Sometimes, on Halloween, he comes out, and people compliment on his costume."

Meg giggled. "Sorry, laughing is mean, but-"

"It is funny." Catherine agreed. "I don't think it bothers him too much. One Halloween, we went for a big long walk through the city, since it was the only night of the year we could. We walked and walked and walked… it was so magical, so amazing, and we finally stopped by the Brooklyn bridge the next morning, at light."

"At light?" Meg asked. "Wasn't that dangerous?"

"Yes, but people still assumed it was a Halloween costume." Catherine said. "This guy walked past and said something along the lines of 'oh, dude, Halloween is over!'."

"How cruel." Meg said.

"Not cruel." Catherine corrected. "He simply didn't know, for which we're grateful. Had he known he probably would have called the police from the nearest payphone, don't you think?"

Meg sighed. "I feel so happy for you, Cathy and at the same time, so sorry."

"Don't feel sorry." Catherine said, taking Meg's hand. "Feel happy; I sure am. Now, does Vincent have any Tolkien books on his shelf?"

Meg went back over to the shelf and searched the shelf. "Nope, don't see- oh, here is something." She produced four volumes from the shelf. "Here are some."

"Wow." Catherine breathed. "Those are antique – exceedingly valuable – worth lots!"

"Really?" Meg asked ins surprise, lookin over the books. "He knows that, I'm sure?"

"Probably not." Catherine said. "He values them with utmost care, I'm sure, but I'm sure he could care less about their cash value."

Meg carefully put them back on the shelf. "He doesn't mind us looking through his books, does he?"

Catherine shook her head. "so long as we remember that they are his top material possessions on the world and so long as we treat them like it."

Meg pulled _a Tale of Two Cities_ from the shelf. "This one seems well-worn." She commented.

"His brother's favorite when they were children – Vincent's favorite too." Catherine said, tucking the quilt around her. "Ever read it?"

"Nope." Meg replied. She opened it to the first page. "'It was the best of times, it was-'hey, this is the book that says that! I always thought that was Shakespeare who said that!"

"No, it was Dickens." Catherine said. "Shakespeare said 'Double Double, Toil and Trouble'."

"And I thought that that was Mark Twain." Meg laughed.

"No, it was Mark Twain who said-"Catherine was interrupted by Meg's laughter.

"And I'm sure whatever you're going to say, I thought Wordsworth said!" Meg laughed again.

"Do you even know who Wordsworth is?" Catherine asked in doubt.

"No; do you?" Meg asked.

"Of course _I_ do, but you're not exactly the type to know the famous literary figures, you know." Catherine said.

"And you're not the type to know that the earth actually isn't completely round." Meg challenged.

"It isn't?" Catherine was surprised. "I thought Columbus proved-"

"Columbus proved zilch." Meg corrected. "When he started his expedition, it was already a well-accepted theory that the earth was round. And I think it was Magellan who proved it, wasn't it? And no, the earth is a bit flat at the top and bottom – it kind of bulges in the middle."

"See? You're the science and history whiz, but when it comes to English and literature-, "Catherine said.

"Than you are ten times better than me." Meg said.

"Not quite ten times better…" Catherine's voice trailed.

"And neither of us are exactly geniuses at math!" Meg laughed. "Are you tired? Want me to go?"

"Heck, no! Not unless you're tired." Catherine said. "We can talk, or read out loud or something all night if we want, so long as we don't wake anyone up."

"Remember that time we stayed up until six in the morning when you spent the night over at my house?" Meg asked, sitting cross-legged on the bed.

"We were about twelve, as I recall." Catherine said. "We stayed up until six, but the Saturday morning cartoons started at seven o'clock, so you stayed up by yourself for the extra hour, so I could get some sleep, but we wouldn't miss the cartoons."

Meg laughed. "The longest hour of my life."

And that's how the two women spent the night, gossiping and remembering their life as young girls, the good and the bad.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

Vincent stepped back into Father's chamber, toweling dry his mane still. It was going to be hours before that fully dried – and the fur he still had left would take a long time to dry too.

Vincent shuddered, feeling so naked and cold without his fur. It felt so… so strange. He didn't how anyone could be comfortable without it. It was… so uncomfortable feeling. How he'd ever get used to have no fur was beyond him.

And glanced over at Father, who had apparently tried to wait up for him in his rocking chair, reading, but had fallen asleep in his chair, his book toppled on the floor making a little teepee. Father snored – loud.

Vincent smiled, knowing Father would stammer and stutter if he awoke. Instead, Vincent picked up the book and carefully placed it back on the shelf. And then he carefully transported his Father from the rocking chair onto his bed. Father would be embarrassed if he somehow remembered it in the morning, so Vincent deemed it best not to say anything.

Vincent knelt under Father's bed and pulled out the small fold-up cot that was used in case of emergencies or extra people staying Below, such as that night. He set it out and then climbed in it, snuffing out all the candles, save the large thick one on the nightstand next to Father's bed, right above Vincent's head. If he blew that one out as well, the chamber would be pitch black, and Father would not be able to see once he woke up, whether it was in the middle of the night or in the morning, for they had no windows for the sun to shine in.

Vincent's eyes could see very well in the dark, so he was used to snuffing out all of the candles, so the change in lighting and change of bed and surroundings made it hard to go right to sleep, not mentioning the cold naked feeling nearly all over his body he felt from his lack of fur.

_Perhaps I can try reading. _Vincent thought. _That is one advantage the candle has._

Vincent got out of the cot and wandered over to the bookshelf, scanning the books on the shelf. Finally, he chose a book of short stories and poems by Rudyard Kipling and settled back down in the cot to read.

Idly he started flipping through the book. Kipling, he was never a big fan of. Sure, he had read some of the Jungle stories, of course, and had heard some of his poems over and over, but he didn't care for Kipling as he might Dickens or Shakespeare.

Vincent paused every now and then, peering at the words on the pages. _They shut the road through the woods seventy years ago…_ Vincent shook his head. It didn't capture his attention, though he finished reading it anyways. He then turned the page to see the next poem, which caught his eye immediately – _If you can keep your head when all about you are losing theirs and blaming it on you; if you can trust yourself when all men doubt you_…

Vincent couldn't believe he had never seen or heard this poem before. It seemed to be written just for him. Of course, that was impossible; Rudyard Kipling died in 1936, years before Vincent was born. Father was only thirteen when Kipling died, after all. But the poem… it was astoundingly written to him, or so it seemed.

_If you can keep your head when all about you _

_are losing theirs and blaming it on you;_

_if you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,_

_But make allowance for their doubting too;_

_If you can wait and not be tired of waiting,_

_Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,_

_Or being hated, don't give way to hating,_

_And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;_

And that was only the first verse. About keeping your head when all are losing theirs and blaming it on you, how many times had Vincent gone through that? Sometimes, whenever something went wrong, the Tunnelers always looked to Vincent or Father, if not blaming them, looking for them to give the answer. And for trusting yourself when all men doubt you, and making allowances for their doubting seemed to be Vincent's life story, for it seemed that consistently, no one trusted him, because, after all, who could trust a beast? And waiting, Vincent had been waiting his entire life. For love from a woman, acceptance from the world, two things he never thought would happen. And the lying, the lies that had been told about Vincent, mainly by Paracelsus – were so evil. And as for the hating, Vincent was hated by almost the entire world, only they didn't know it. But if they dreamed of his existence, yes, he would be hated. And he certainly didn't look too good, and sometimes he did not act very wisely.

He continued to read, going on to the second and third verses.

_If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;_

_If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;_

_If you can meet with triumph and disaster_

_And treat those two imposters just the same;_

_If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken_

_Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools._

_Or watch the thing you have your life to, broken,_

_And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools;_

_If you can make one heap of all your winnings_

_And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,_

_And lose, and start again at your beginnings_

_And never breathe a word about your lost;_

_If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew_

_To serve your turn long after they are gone,_

_And so hold on when there is nothing in you_

_Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"_

-By Rudyard Kipling

It was one of those curious things, one of those things that were so simple, yet so complex. So easy to say, so hard to achieve. And particularly astounding that no one had shared this poem to Vincent before, when it is something he should have committed to memory long ago.

_Those last two verses are the hardest to achieve. _Vincent thought. _Losing your life's winnings, to start all over again? And not breathe another word about it, to just say 'ob-la-di, ob-la-da' and just continue happily, without regret? The heap of winnings and risking it on a game of pitch-and-toss, and then losing and having to start over, rather reminds me of myself, how I try so hard to build up as much respect, dignity and trust as I can, and then the sickness comes along, and tears that all down. What I've done during the sickness robs me of any respect, dignity or trust – especially with Catherine. I did the ultimate mistake last time._

Vincent shook his head, no longer thinking reading was a good idea. Instead, he put down the book and put it under the cot, and then shut his eyes to go to sleep. No use thinking about what was already done, and unfortunately, what could not be turned around.


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: This chapter made up a plot of its own, and wrote itself too. I know it may seem like a stupid excuse, but other writers know what I'm talking about! Anyways, remember, I only own Meg and her family. Aside from that, everyone else belongs to… someone other than me. Well, except for the various cabbies, but feel free to 'steal' them from me – I'm just stereotyping what I see on TV. Oh yes, and I'm also rather expected spam-orientated reviews very soon – don't ask, it's not worth it. So anyways, if someone is reviewing being completely childish and unfair, then don't take their comments seriously, as I sure won't!!! Thanks again for your love and support - it really keeps me going! You guys are all so great, and are helping me more than you know – I hope I can do the same for you someday!**

**Chapter Twenty-Three:**

"Have you ever seen it before?" Vincent asked Catherine. "Have you ever read it before?"

Catherine shook her head. "Well, I've _read_ it but never thought of it that way before." She looked at him. "I've never compared it to you before."

They were in Vincent's chamber. He had brought her breakfast and the poem he had read the previous night that he had carefully copied down onto a sheet of paper, curious to know what she had thought of it.

"And what do you think of it?" Vincent took the piece of paper from her, that had the poem "If-"written on it, and began pacing the floor.

Catherine thought a moment. "I'm thinking that it is rather surprising that no one has mentioned it to you before. That ought to be your theme poem." She smiled and then sighed. "What should be our baby's theme poem?"

Vincent sighed. "I am thinking it all depends."

"Upon what?" Catherine asked.

"Upon whether the baby is a boy or girl, smiley or sad, or…" he searched for the words. " How the child looks, on whether it is fully human or not."

Catherine rolled her eyes. "Vincent, even if you're not fully human, the baby will be, at least for the most part, I'm sure." She sighed. "You're not still worried about that, are you?"

He shook his head. "Not as much worried about how the child will look as I am concerned about how the child will feel, how the child will be treated."

"The child will feel loved and be treated the same way, I hope." Catherine said decidedly. "Everyone Below will treat the baby with love, regardless of how it looks. After all," she added, her eyes twinkling. "It'll be your special child."

Suddenly the heard someone standing in the doorway. Vincent turned around just in time to see Maria running away from his chamber, her dark hair flying after her.

Vincent stood up and started after her. "I will go talk to her." He said.

"Oh, I was meaning to ask you to." Catherine said. "I have a feeling she'll feel so left out and…"

"By the time we come back, she will be smiling." Vincent assured Catherine, leaving his chamber to go find the little girl.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"Ah, Vincent, there you are." Father said, greeting Vincent in the long corridor. "I was just about to come find you."

"Not now, Father, please." Vincent said. "Have you seen Maria run this way?"

Father nodded. "About a minute ago, yes, I think she was coming through here." He looked a bit concerned. "Why do you ask?"

"I shall tell you later." Vincent promised, running off into the direction the child had been running. His legs were much longer and stronger than the young girl's, and he soon caught up with her, at the bridge over the abyss. She was sitting on it, legs dangling over the endless pit. She was crying.

Wordlessly, Vincent took his seat beside the child, letting his legs dangle over as well. He got the chilling feeling up his spine and neck as he always did whenever he sat down on that bridge. As magical as the abyss was, or at least seemed, it was still a bit frightening to sit on that bridge, knowing it was the only thing that kept you from life and certain death. Yet, since he was a small child, he had always done it. It was a place where peaces resounded, where one could usually be alone with their thoughts. He was glad to see Maria obviously felt the same way about it.

"Maria." He finally tried. He put his arm around her small frame. "Ssh… there now, crying will not help at all, will it?"

He supposed putting his arm around her was a mistake, or was it something he said, because she just started sobbing even more.

"Maria," he said gently. "Are you upset about the baby?"

There was no reply from her, but more sobs, so Vincent assumed he was right. As a matter of fact, he was nearly positive he was right, but he did not want to just assume; nothing made a child more frustrated, and he knew that from experience.

He took a deep breath before continuing. "I know you may be a bit upset with me, Maria."

"I just don't want anything to change, Vincent." The little girl cried. "I want everything to stay the same!"

"I know." Vincent said quietly. "And you have had more change than any child ought to have in their life." He took another breath. "But I can tell you one thing; you and the baby are going to get along great, and are going to be best friends."

"We are?" The little girl asked, doubtfully.

Vincent nodded. "I think so. The baby will need someone to keep it safe, to protect and love it."

"Your going to do that, remember?" the girl challenged. "It's going to be _your_ special child."

Vincent nodded. "That is true. But who is going to show it how to smile, how to talk, how to play? How to play hide-and-go-seek, how to play with building blocks, how to play hand clapping games?"

"You can do that." Maria said dully.

Vincent shook his head. "But it wouldn't be the same. I have no played such things in years. I should think you would know how much better than I. Catherine and I am depending on you."

At the mention of Catherine's name, Maria's shoulders slumped a bit. "What is the matter?" Vincent asked. He was a bit puzzled. "I thought you liked Catherine."

"But it's all her fault." Maria said. "Now you'll have your own family and forget all about me."

"Is that what you think?" Vincent asked her. When the girl nodded, he shook his head. "No, that's not true; you will _always_ be my special girl."

Maria cracked a little smile. "Really? But what if the baby is a girl?"

"Somehow, I doubt that." Vincent spoke the truth. For some strange reason, he knew the baby was a boy. "Come on, Maria; we need to talk." He stood up and offered her his hand.

Maria looked up, her brown yes wide. Vincent looked very serious, extending his hand to help her up. She gave a slight smile and reached up to take the enormous furred hand offered to her.

She stood up and began following the man across the rest of the bridge and into the dark corridor. Vincent took a lantern hanging on the wall and lighted it, and used it to guide their way through the dark tunnels.

A thrilling shiver went up Maria's spine. Vincent was taking her exploring through the tunnels, tunnels most of the children never got to see! It was pretty rare that he took her on such miniature journeys, and he never took any of the other children, just her.

She gave a little skip of excitement. She then looked up at Vincent and looked as his face; he was obviously thinking abut what he was going to say; she hadn't gotten away without a talk or lecture as easily as she had thought.

_What do I say to her now? _Vincent wondered. _She's not going to be happy for long. She was crying a few minutes ago, thinking that I wouldn't be her friend anymore, that she wouldn't be special to me any longer now that I'm going to be a father. But something tells me that it's not completely resolved, that she will still be crying over it a few days from now. And saying it is all Catherine's fault; that was a bit bitter, and I hardly doubt that went away from our little talking to._

"Maria," Vincent said slowly. "Are you angry with me?"

The girl's eyes widened as she looked up to his face, which could barely be seen, between the dark shadows and her being so much shorter than him. "Why would I be mad at you?" she asked.

Vincent sighed. She wasn't exactly making this conversation easy. "Because Catherine is having a baby? Are you mad at me or Catherine?"

Maria kicked a rock with her sturdy leather shoe. "I'm not mad." She said slowly, emphasizing the word 'mad'.

"But you aren't exactly happy with us, are you?" Vincent asked.

Maria hesitated before she answered. "I just… you're just so nice to all of us children, but especially me. But once the baby is born, all you will do is read stories to the baby and play games with the baby." She looked away from and down at her purple dress that hug to her mid-calves. "There won't be any time for just you and me."

"Now that is not true!" Vincent protested.

"It is true!" the little girl snapped. "The baby isn't even born yet and you have already not spent any time with me lately! All you've done is spending time with Catherine!"

"Now that is certainly not true." Vincent corrected her. "I have hardly seen Catherine these past few weeks. I have been so unbelievably busy that I haven't had time for myself, much less anyone else. As much as I should like to spend time with you, Catherine, father, Mouse and everyone else, I cannot, Maria, no matter how much I'd like to."

"However," Vincent continued. "I don't have any priorities or things to do right now." he looked down t her. "I'm spending time with you now."

Her shoulders slumped. "But it won't be the same with the baby born. It's not even the same now."

"Well, that is true." Vincent agreed. "Right now we aren't playing around or anything fun – we're talking of something serious. And once the baby is born, I will have more responsibilities; responsibilities as a father, responsibilities to the baby and Catherine, and still the same ones I have now that are giving me no time for my family and Catherine." A thought suddenly struck him. He stopped and knelt down with a slight grunt, his foot and ribs not liking that change of movement. "I have to speak to Catherine about something." Vincent said slowly. "But I think I have an idea that you may like."

"What is it?" Maria asked excitedly. "Are you not having the baby after all?"

Vincent couldn't help but chuckle. "No, we are still having the baby. We _want_ to have the baby."

"But _why_?" Maria asked.

Vincent hesitated. How does one explain to an eleven-year-old girl about having a baby, especially under the circumstances that they were under? Finally, he found the words. "It is hard to explain, but I want the baby because the baby is my baby, and the baby is a part of Catherine. I want the baby because…" he searched for the words. "Because I love the baby."

"How can you love someone who's not born?" Maria asked, staring into Vincent's blue eyes that were directly across from her, since he had knelt down to her height.

Vincent shook his head. "I was wondering that not too long ago myself. But someday, I think you will understand when you have your first baby."

Maria shook her head ferociously. "I'm never _ever_ having kids. Never _ever_."

Vincent chuckled, getting back to his feet. "And why not?"

"Have you seen Olivia take care of Luke?" the girl wrinkled her nose. "All he does is cry and make messes and eat and soil his nappies and-"

"And all babies do that." Vincent finished. "But it's worth it." The turned around and started walking back to the main tunnels. "So, as I said, I think I thought of a fun idea for us to do, but I have to speak to Catherine about it first."

"Why Catherine?" Maria asked. "Why does she have to know?"

"Because she will want to." Vincent said. "And besides, it includes her."

The girl's shoulders slumped. "You mean she is going to do the fun thing too?"

Vincent nodded. "Perhaps. She's going to help us be able to do the fun thing, at least. You like Catherine, don't you?"

"I did." The eleven-year-old hid no truth from Vincent, who she cared for like a favorite uncle.

"You did?" Vincent asked. "And then what happened?"

"And then I realized that for now on, all your going to now is spend time with Catherine and the baby and have no time for me." The girl pouted.

"I thought we just decided that we _would_ still spend time together?" Vincent said, a bit exasperated, but trying to do his best to show it. It wasn't helping that Catherine was feeling extremely exasperated at the moment either, and that he could feel her exasperation through their bond.

"Can you at least give me a hint to as what the fun thing is?" Maria asked Vincent hopefully.

He shook his head. "No, not one hint. But I think you will like it - a lot."

Finally, they reached the abyss again. Vincent knelt down and gave the girl a hug. "You will always be my special girl, remember that? And just because I haven't spent much time with you lately doesn't mean I don't love you - it means that I've been busy."

She nodded. "So now you have to go back to see Catherine, don't you?"

Vincent was dumbfounded. Sometimes that little girl could read him like a book. He nodded. "I think she's having a bad day."

"She always seems to have a bad day lately." Maria commented.

Vincent chuckled. "Can 'I tell you a secret?"

"What?" Maria asked, always ready for a secret.

"Ladies who are going to have babies are really cranky." Vincent whispered to Maria.

Maria giggled. "She's driving you crazy?"

Vincent nodded, a rare smile playing on his lips. "Sometimes."

The girl wrapped her arms around the man's waist. "If you ever need to talk, I'm here for you, 'kay?" she quoted the words that he often said to her.

"I will remember that." He said to her. He looked at his pocket watch. "Don't you have a lesson to get to?"

She nodded, somewhat slyly. "Yes."

"Well, shouldn't you get to it?" he asked her.

"You should too." She said.

He looked at her quizzically. "Why?" he asked slowly.

"'Cause the lesson is in history." She said.

"I completely forgot!" he said to himself, though out loud where Maria could hear. "I haven't prepared anything. I haven't even-" he looked at her, frazzled, and then without another word, picked her up and ran for Father's study, where the lesson was being held, as fast as he could.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"I'm bored stiff." Catherine complained. "Well, more like bored and stiff. I want to get up and move!"

"You wouldn't dare!" Meg told her cousin. "And stop complaining; I have a feeling that Father isn't the type to tolerate it. And Vincent won't be able to help you any, so you'll just drive him crazy."

"Where is he?" Catherine wondered out loud. "He went to go talk to Maria, and he hasn't come back."

"I heard he was talking to her over by that big pit." Meg referred to the abyss. "Maybe she pushed him in."

Catherine gave a wry smile. "Highly doubtful."

Meg tried to make conversation. Keeping Catherine in good humor was one of the things that were on the top of everyone's priority list lately. "So, I haven't gone Above today – have you heard how the weather is?"

Catherine shrugged. "Aside from Father coming in to check my ankle and once again lecture me, Vincent coming in to share a poem and a 'good morning', plus bringing breakfast, and you making this little visit here, I haven't seen anyone. And why would you care how the weather is? Its not like you're going Above today, are you?"

"I was hoping to this evening, actually." Meg said. "That is what I wanted to talk to you about."

Catherine raised her brow suspiciously. "What are you planning?"

"I'm planning on talking to Mr. Joe Maxwell for you." Meg said.

"What?" Catherine asked, horrified. "You can't – he'll think I'm insane! He'll think you're insane!"

"We already told him that Vincent has a leonine appearance." Meg reminded her cousin. "He already thinks we're both crazy, I'm sure."

Catherine sighed. "Don't tell him anything stupid, and don't tell Vincent or Father that you're telling him. Don't tell anyone."

"Why not?" Meg asked. "I mean, I won't if you ask me not to but…"

"But if I told Vincent, he'd freak out like he did when you met him, and we can't afford for that to happen." Catherine said. "And besides, he has absolutely not secrets from Father."

"How boring." Meg said with a roll of her eyes.

Catherine chuckled. "Actually, I think it's kind of sweet, and very attractive. It adds to his being so naïve and innocent and… just all-around _wonderful_, don't you think?"

"That he's still under his father's authority?" Meg asked. "Well, yeah, I guess your right. And Father can't find out because he'd have a cow, right?"

"More like an elephant." Catherine groaned. "And if anyone else finds out, it'll be all over the pipes within the hour, and then Father and Vincent will find out anyways."

"So we'll be like secret agents." Meg's eyes sparkled mischievously.

"Sort of." Catherine laughed. "See, what Father doesn't understand is that Joe will keep our secret, I'm sure, and the more that Joe knows the better. Joe is in a good position when it comes to the DA's office, and will help us out in any way possible, and that way, my excused time off and strange excuses of why the people I go to question always get killed won't seem so strange anymore, if he helps me." She cocked her head. "So, what's your plan?"

"Well," Meg said slowly. "I was thinking that I'd call him up and ask him out to dinner or something, that I wanted to talk about something important with him, and that I was only going to be in town for such a small amount of time and so on and so on."

"And then?" Catherine pressed.

"We'd met at some restaurant or something and slowly I'd retell him the whole story, in detail, and tell him that we're all depending on him, because not only does Catherine, Vincent, their baby and the rest of their family depend on it, but all of the people that Catherine's been helping out, through her work at the DA's are too, and-"

"And so on and so on." Catherine said. "Well, I guess that's as good as a plan as any, I guess. Where are you going out to eat at?"

Meg threw her hands up in the air. "I don't know! I haven't planned that far ahead! Where do you recommend we eat?"

"The Italian Eatery." Catherine said immediately. "It's a little formal and expensive, but Joe will love it, especially if you're paying, and it'll get him on the right foot. Don't worry about the bill; I'll pay for it."

"Now, you don't have to do that." Meg argued.

"I want to." Catherine said. "I've too much money for one person and besides, it's my problem you're taking care of." She sighed contently. "Oh, yes, and you'll have to wear something formal – I take it you didn't bring anything with you?"

Meg shook her head. "No, I'm afraid I didn't."

"No problem." Catherine said. She handed Meg her purse. "Did through there and you'll find my keys in there somewhere. Go up to my room and go through my closet. I'm sure you'll find something you'll like in there."

Meg shook her head. "I don't think I can wear your size, Catherine." She was just slightly plumper than Catherine.

"You'll find something, I'm sure." Catherine said. "There's a light blue dress up there that I bought somewhat recently. It'd fit you great, I'm sure. Go try it on."

"Are you sure your okay here alone?" Meg checked before she left.

Suddenly Arthur came running into the chamber and jumped up on the little table.

"Do I look like I'm alone?" Catherine groaned. "Go on – I'm good."

Meg shook her head in disbelief at the animal prowling around. "I can't believe that they have a raccoon down here. Don't they have rabies or something?"

"Not Arthur." Catherine defended the beloved pet. "He's perfectly clean and sanitary – Mouse sees to it, otherwise Father would kick him out."

"Kick Mouse or Arthur out?" Meg asked, amused.

"Well, Arthur, and Mouse would probably follow him out." Catherine laughed. "Go on to my apartment – I'll have plenty of company with this raccoon."

With a laugh, Meg left the chamber. Catherine glared at the raccoon, which just decided to jump up on and explore Vincent's bed. "Don't even think about it." She warned Arthur with a laugh.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"Why do we have to know history?" Lincoln complained. "Its only history of Above – it doesn't matter here."

"Now that's where you're wrong." Vincent said to the young boy, pacing Father's chamber. "What happened Above mattered down here, and what happens Above affects us down here Below, right? And it will affect you later in life."

"How would _you_ know?" Lincoln challenged, apparently trying to cause extra trouble today.

"Because I know that knowing history has helped me, and many other people." Vincent said. "And while you may think that we are living down here to avoid studies, then that is not true. Some of you may move Above one day, go to college and run successful businesses. How do you expect to do that without proper training in every aspect you will need?"

"Well, you just wasted your time learnin' then." Lincoln scoffed. "'Cause you ain't ever going Above – they'd cage you like an animal before you were up there two minutes."

There was a big gasp by all the children. They all stared back and forth at Lincoln and Vincent, wondering what Vincent was going to say as a reply.

Vincent stared at Lincoln, speechless by the boy's words. Had those words actually come out of the fifteen-year-old's mouth? How cruel, how insensitive… One minute Vincent was sure that Lincoln would wind up being rich and successful Above, if that was what he wanted, but other times, Vincent could see him on the streets Above, with the worst gangs in the city of New York. Had Lincoln actually hurt Vincent's feelings? No, not really. Vincent knew what the boy said, and it was, after all, true. But was his pride damaged? Yes – there was nothing worse than being absolutely humiliated in front of your class of children. And was he angry with Lincoln? You bet he was.

"Lincoln," Vincent tried not to let his voice quaver from the anger, frustration and humiliation the boy had given him. "Come over here right now." He over enunciated each syllable, showing that he meant every word he said.

Stiffly, Lincoln stood up. Vincent could tell just by the boy's body language that he was scared of what Vincent would do. But he tried not to show it. "Why?" Lincoln asked. "Ya gonna kill me like you did other people?"

_He had to bring _that _up, of course! _Vincent couldn't believe his ears. _It was bad enough Lincoln was thinking these thoughts and even worse that he was saying them to my face. But in front of all the children too?_

"No, I am not." Vincent said. "But this is what I am going to do; I am going to demand that you come up here – _now_." Vincent didn't know what he was going to do when the boy got up there. He had never ever been so angry at a student before! Normally he could just reproach them and they would stop, and when worse came to worse, he could just make them do extra, or write sentences, and of course, tell their parents. But what could he do in such a situation where the child would not listen, insulted him in one of the worst ways possible ,and then still acted like… and still copped the worst attitude he could?

"Whatcha gonna do when I go up there?" Lincoln asked. "That is, _if_ I go up there."

That was one thing Vincent did not have the answer to, but that was the last thing he was going to let Lincoln know. "Lincoln, I said come up here now. And if you do not, the consequences of your actions will only get worse."

"Ooh, I real scared!" Lincoln made fun of Vincent.

"That's it." Vincent walked over to where Lincoln was standing and grabbed Lincoln by the back of the collar. "Children, you please stay here and study… study your geography." He motioned to the globe. "Thomas, will you please lead them and please keep everyone quiet until I get back? I shall be back in a few minutes." And that said, Vincent, with Lincoln by the collar, left Father's chamber.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"I like it." Catherine said happily, sitting on the twin sized bed in what was now the baby's chamber, which was also going to be used as Catherine's chamber on the weekends. "Thank you so much! I know all of you went through lots of extra work to get this finished as soon as possible!"

"Yer welcome, ma'am." George said.

"Anytime Catherine." Was Kanin's kind reply, and with that, the men left the chamber, leaving Catherine and her cousin alone.

At the same time as the trouble over in Father's chamber, Catherine had just moved into the baby's new chamber. They had finally finished furnishing it to a livable stage, and it now held the twin-sized bed, a nightstand, a rub on the floor, and a rickety old dresser in the corner. Father and Mary promised it would be complete by the time the baby was born, but Catherine assured them that it was fine for now, and there was no need to rush it on her account. She was just happy to have her own chamber Below, well, at least until the baby came.

"Well, what do you think?" Catherine asked Meg. "You haven't said a word about what you've thought about it!"

Meg surveyed the room. "Well," she said slowly, chewing on her index finger. "I guess I like it."

"You just put your finger in your mouth and you always do that when you lie." Catherine reminded Meg. "What do you really think of it?"

"It's a cave!" Meg blurted out. "The walls and floor are made out of rock and stone, its cold and damp feeling, there's no electricity, heating or anything? You might as well be living with cavemen!"

Catherine laughed. "You make it sound so horrible – and it's not that horrible. Look," she pointed to the nightstand beside her. "This is an old nightstand from the 1800's. And this old mattress, pillow and bedding have been used over many decades, true, but that makes them all the more comfy! And so what that there is no electricity? Candlelight is so much more romantic, and as for it being cold and no heating…" her eyes twinkled. "Well, that part is kind of romantic, as well."

Meg couldn't help but laugh with agreement at that last part. "What about showers?" Meg said suddenly. "Do people shower down here?"

Catherine shook her head. "No showers, but there are some springs down here that they bathe in."

"Springs?" Meg grimaced. "In that cold water?"

Catherine shrugged. "Some of them are naturally heated."

"What about the ones that you and your baby will be bathing in?" Meg asked, concerned. "Are it going to be hot or cold water?"

"Probably hot, I'd imagine." Catherine said. "There's a small chamber that you can only get to from Vincent's chamber, so it's his own personal bathing chamber. A lot of people have their own bathing chambers. I'm sure the baby will use his most of the time and as for me," she shrugged. "I don't care where I bathe. I'll probably just not- I'll shower home, my home Above, and go one day a week without bathing, since I'll be Above the rest of the week – no biggie – that's what Saturdays are meant for!"

Meg laughed a bit and then looked at Catherine. "You're amazing, you know that?"

Catherine's cheeks flushed a bit. "Oh, go on."

"It's true!" Meg insisted. "You, of all people, found a world underground, the rarest man who ever walked the earth, you get into the weirdest and most dangerous situations and make it out alive, and you tolerate stuff that most women wouldn't, like sleeping in a cave, for example." She shook her head. "It's…"

"Unbelievable? Unfathomable? Righteous? Tolerant?" Catherine tried to supply the words Meg was looking for.

"It's a definite sign of true love." Meg said at last. She looked at Catherine in the eyes. "You love him lots, don't you?"

"One million times more than you can imagine." Catherine stated firmly. She sighed contently. "I'm so lucky to have him. He doesn't think so and sometimes I wonder if Father thinks I'm extremely lucky or unlucky to have him, but-"

"Certainly Father approves of your relationship with Vincent?" Meg asked with eyebrows raised.

Catherine shook her head. "I think he's kind of straddling on the fence. On one hand, he wants his son to taste all the love life can offer, but on the other hand, he doesn't want him to experience the side of love that mean getting hurt. But then again, if we're truly in love, then where's the harm, but on the other hand, what if Catherine finds someone else Above?"

Meg sighed. "And I'm sure Vincent is ruled by Father, right?"

Catherine shrugged. "To a degree, yes. He listens to Father's advice and usually does it. There has been very few times, I think, where he's actually said 'no' to Father. Father's a wise man, and Vincent loves and respects him very much. He'd never do anything that might insult or offend Father."

Meg smiled slightly. "A real daddy's boy?"

"Something of the sort." Catherine laughed. "So the dress? Did you find anything that fits?"

Meg nodded. "The blue one you mentioned? Well, it works great. Mind if I wear it?"

"Of course not!" Catherine said, looking down at her tummy. "Do I look like I'm going to be wearing it anytime soon?"

Meg giggled. "I suppose not. Catherine, its real sweet how your letting me use your stuff like this."

"Hey, what are friends and family for?" Catherine asked. "By the way, I'm going to want it back."

Meg laughed at Catherine humor. "You know, I think I've laughed more the last couple days than I have in a long while."

"So have I, I think." Catherine said. "So have you called Joe yet?"

Meg nodded. "Tonight at seven o'clock, we're meeting at the _Italian Eatery_, like you said we should."

"Good." Catherine said approvingly. "And he knows you're not available?"

"Of course!" Meg gave Catherine a playful swat, but Catherine caught a look in her eye.

"Your homesick?" she asked Meg gently.

Meg nodded. "A little. I miss Mike, and the girls."

"Well, I'm sure they are happy knowing that you're having a great time here in New York City." Catherine said comfortingly. "And you're all going to come back up soon."

"We are?" Meg asked. "When?"

"You're going to have to come up before December, so Mike can meet everyone, and so can Bailee and Cameryn." She leaned forward to Meg. "I was hoping on throwing some kind of Halloween party Below or something, so your kids won't be that frightened of Vincent at first."

Meg nodded. "Genius." A worried look crossed her face. "But I'm afraid we don't have the money to fly up here, and especially stay in a New York hotel-"

"I'll pay for the airplane tickets, since after all, you're doing this for me, and you can stay with me as well!" Catherine offered.

"No!" Meg said. "We're too noisy – we'd drive you crazy."

"Then you can stay Below." Catherine said decidedly. "Or better yet, you guys can stay in my apartment, and I'll stay Below. We don't want all the caverns and such frightening the girls, especially around Halloween – caves tend to frighten people, especially little kids."

Meg nodded. "And we'll see you again for the baby's birth, right?"

"In December." Catherine verified. "And you'll be invited to Winterfest, which is also in December, so you might have to stay for a long while. And of course, you guys can stay in my apartment or Below, whichever works out best for Halloween."

"Have you talked to Vincent about this yet?" Meg wanted to know.

"About what?" Catherine asked. "You're coming down for Winterfest? Of course! He and Father suggested it, actually. And about the birthing of the baby, they want you to be down here! They think you'd be of some good help."

"And of the Halloween thing?"

"I'll talk to Vincent soon." She assured her cousin. "But I'm sure he'll love it, though we won't want to do it on Halloween."

"Why not?" Meg asked, puzzled.

Catherine sighed. "Because Halloween is me and Vincent's magic night. That's the night where we can walk around Above with no one caring so much, just thinking he's dressed in a really good costume. It's our sole night to just be a normal couple, and be treated like one. His one night to be accepted by everyone. It's just… magical. We spend the whole night out in the city and don't waste one minute of it, because once it's gone… we have to wait another whole year. And any time we waste is certainly not coming back."

Meg sighed too. "That's so sad."

"Yeah, it is." Catherine said, falling into a somewhat melancholy mood.

"So is there any message I should give Joe tonight?" Meg switched the subject, noticing Catherine's dampened mood that ultimately Meg was responsible for.

"Yeah." Catherine said. "Make sure he understands that I'm not crazy, Vincent does exist, and I don't want his world revealed, or anyone Below arrested." Catherine said firmly. "That's all I ask."

"Good plan, good message." Meg said. "Easy to follow, easy to remember. So any update on Vincent and Maria? How's she feeling about it now?"

Catherine shrugged. "I don't know. I haven't seen either of them since Vincent left to go find her. For all I know, they can be in Shangri-La."

"That would take a bit too long to get through by tunnel, wouldn't it?" Meg teased.

"''Vincent's journey to the center of the earth', coming to theatres near you'." Catherine joked.

"Now who wrote that book?" Meg asked, getting confused again.

"What book?"

"'Journey to the Center of the Earth'?"

"Oh, that was Jules Verne." Catherine answered with a shake of her head. "You really need to start reading more literature."

"It's just too hard." Meg complained. "All the old English type talk gets old and I can hardly understand what they are saying sometimes!"

"The slower you read and the more you read, the more you'll understand." Catherine assured her cousin. "In the meantime, start with the classics! ' Little Women', the 'Oz' books, and 'The Secret Garden' are really good and easy to read. Read them out loud to your kids."

"Do you think they'll even comprehend what I'm reading?" Meg asked, doubtfully.

Catherine nodded. "Yep. I've learned since discovering Below that the kids understand more of what we're saying then we think they do. They are pretty darned smart, and could follow 'A little Princess' without much of a problem, I don't think."

Meg smiled and then sighed. "Oh, I miss my kids!"

"Go to my apartment and call them!" Catherine insisted.

"But its long distance." Meg began.

"So what?" Catherine said. "Go call them!"

"Now?"

"No, sixty years from now." Catherine said sarcastically. She leaned back in the bed while Meg left. It was going to be a long six weeks, lying in bed with nothing to do.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"Let me go!" Lincoln tried to struggle out of Vincent's grasp as they walked into Vincent's chamber.

Vincent was glad to find it empty, knowing Catherine moved in the baby's chamber; the last thing he needed was to have to have such a conversation with the boy in front of someone. That would only make it harder seeing how the person would certainly intervene, and Lincoln would hardly respond to what Vincent was saying.

Vincent let go of the boy's shirt as soon as they stood alone in Vincent's chamber. "What were you thinking?" Vincent asked the boy. "Children are trying to study in there and you're… your just causing trouble!"

"I was just stating the truth." The boy shrugged his shirt back into place. "And you can't take away my right of freedom of speech."

_Now he pays attention to history! _Vincent thought, frustrated. "All right, now that you've learned about freedom of speech, its time to learn abut something else; tact."

"Tact?" Lincoln snorted. "I'm not an idiot, Vincent; I know what 'tact' means."

"You do?" Vincent asked. "Because I am not sure; you certainly were not showing it in there."

Lincoln gave Vincent an ugly look. "There is no rule that you have to show it all the time."

"But it is a good rule to have, don't you think?" Vincent said. "Not only did you do your best to insult me and embarrass me, your teacher, you also made a point to do it in front of the other children, why they were actually trying to _learn_ something."

Lincoln shrugged. "Not like they are ever gonna need to know who fired the first shot of the Revolutionary war."

"You never know what you are going to have to know until it is too late, usually." Vincent retorted. "and even if one never _needs_ to know anything, does having the knowledge hurt?"

"It does when you can be doing other things." Lincoln said.

"Back to having tact." Vincent said firmly, striding over to his bookshelf and carefully selecting the well-worn dictionary. "Look it up."

"Look what up?" Lincoln asked, trying to make Vincent irritated, which was obviously working.

"You know very well what I want you to look up; 'tact'." Vincent said, beginning to pace the floor.

"What if I don't want to?" Lincoln asked, his eyes flashing.

Vincent stopped in his tracks. "You do know how to look up a word in the dictionary, don't you?"

"Of course I do!" Lincoln exclaimed in defensive. But his eyes told Vincent otherwise.

Vincent sighed. He had spent all of this time teaching Lincoln and the other children, and what did he get for thanks? The child not even knowing how alphabetical order worked?

"You open the dictionary to the first page and notice a pattern; all the words start with 'A'." Vincent said, flipping open the book. And then a bit later, all the words begin with 'B' and then 'C' and then 'D' and so on! Where do you think you would look for the word 'tact'?"

"Under 'T'." Lincoln said like a know-it-all.

"All right, then." Vincent said, shoving the dictionary across the table for Lincoln to use. "Look up the word 'tact'."

Lincoln opened the dictionary and flipped through it until he found the 'T' section. "There." Lincoln said with a smirk. "I know my ABC's." he added sarcastically.

"Impressive." Vincent said. "Now find the word 'tact'."

Lincoln's eyes trailed the page, looking over each word until he found the word 'tact'. It was obvious he still wasn't very aware how to look up words in the dictionary.

Vincent gave a long sigh of impatience, waiting for Lincoln to find the word. And finally, Lincoln did. "Here it is." Lincoln said, shoving the book across the table to Vincent. "Tact."

"Did you know that if you had been paying attention in class, you would have been able to look that up much faster?" Vincent asked Lincoln rhetorically. "Now, here is what I want you to do." He took a sheet of paper and his quill pen and put it on the table. "I want you to look up each one of these words in the dictionary, and copy what it says down, word-for-word. When I come back, I expect you to have it all done. Understood?"

"How do you know that I won't just run off?" Lincoln challenged.

"Because if you do, I will tell your parents of what happened today." Vincent said.

"You mean you would repeat what I said to you?" Lincoln asked. "By repeating it you'd be admitting it."

"Much of what you said was unnecessary, but true, and I shall have no shame in admitting it." Vincent said, writing down the words he wanted looked up. "You have an hour before I come back. Thanks to you, much of us have had our schedule for the day completely interrupted, and gaining the time to do what we wanted to do now will be difficult." That said, he left the boy alone in his chamber.

On his way back, to Father's study, Vincent clenched his hands. How could Lincoln have been so horrible? He had defied Vincent in front of all the children and said horrid things to him. Next, he would be saying a bunch of words that Vincent didn't learn until he was thirty, wouldn't he?

Vincent stepped back into Father's study, which was now being used as a classroom. All of the children were assembled around the globe, studying the layout of the countries over near Africa.

"All right, children, you may take your seats again." Vincent said. "Thank you, Thomas."

The children quickly scared back to their seats and waiting expectantly for Vincent to say something, obviously wondering what had happened to Lincoln and what Vincent had done about it.

Vincent cleared his throat before he spoke. "Now, as I was saying before we were rudely interrupted, how many continents are there?"

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

Meg looked at herself critically in the mirror. The long blue dress fit her well, curving just at the right spots. The dress was never too loose or too tight in the wrong spots, and was neither too long nor too short, and the light blue color matched her eyes perfectly. It was as if the dress was made just for her.

Meg's honey-blonde hair hung in ringlets around her face, carefully held back by a white beaded pin. A string of white pearls hung around Meg's neck. The pearls were given to her last Mother's day, and she treasured them highly amongst all her material possessions. The shoes she wore with the dress went perfectly as well, the heels not too high and not too short – just perfect.

Meg gave a little laugh and twirled in front of the mirror. She was afraid that she hadn't looked that good since her wedding day. She knew it as a fact. And she couldn't help but wish she was going out to dinner with Mike, instead of a man she hardly knew, whom she would have to tell a bunch of things that would completely change his life – and many other people's – forever.

She practiced what she would say to him in front of the mirror. "Good evening, Mr. Maxwell." She practiced. No, that sounded too formal. But then what should she call him? Just plain 'Joe' wouldn't do, since she had hardly met the man, 'Mr. Joe' seemed too childish and yet, what else was there to call him?

_I will probably call him Mr. Maxwell just once, and he'll say something along the lines of 'Please, call me Joe'. _Meg decided. _Yes, that will likely be the thing that will happen._

Meg wondered what Father would think when he found out that Meg and Catherine had told Joe, mainly Meg. Would Father be mad? Will he understand? Will he understand, but be mad anyways? Did he hold a grudge for long?

And what of Vincent? Would he be mad that Joe now knew of his secret world, the world he thrived on and depended on to survive? Would he understand, or would he understand, but also be very angry. Surely, he wouldn't be angry at Catherine? What if he was angry at her? Meg shuddered; thinking of all that Vincent could do with his immense strength and sharp beast-like claws and fangs. Surely he wouldn't, right? He only hurt and killed people in self-defense, right? But what if he thought killing Joe was a matter of self-defense?

Meg shook her head, trying to get such thoughts out of her mind. Catherine would never love a man like that, never. She wouldn't ever even be thinking about loving a man like that. It was inconceivable. Meg hardly knew Vincent, but he didn't seem like the type to overreact to such things, did he? She certainly hoped not, at least.

_I need to stop thinking these thoughts! _Meg scolded herself. _I'll get myself so worried and worked up that I won't be able to bring myself to tell Joe what he needs to know. How am I going to prove to him that Vincent is real anyways, without showing him?_

Meg looked around Catherine's apartment, trying to find a picture or something of Vincent. But there wasn't one. Sure, there were pictures; pictures of Catherine and her father, pictures of a ten-year-old Catherine with a very sickly looking mother, pictures of Meg and her family, pictures Meg had sent of her kids, and even a couple pictures of Meg and Catherine as babies. There were pictures of various people that Meg did not know, of course, and a couple pictures that looked like they might be of past boyfriends, but Meg couldn't be sure. Who would put up pictures of past boyfriends anyways? Then Meg realized that they were of Tom Gunther, and they weren't exactly being displayed; they looked more like they were about to be packed away.

Meg glanced at the gold wristwatch that was around her wrist. It was nearly six o'clock. She had better go ahead and leave. She didn't know how far away the Italian Eatery was, and could only guess that it would take an hour to get there in New York traffic.

She took one last look at herself in the mirror, patted her hair one last time and then went to the door of Catherine's apartment. She shut off all the lamps and then left, carefully locking the door behind her.

The New York City August air was surprisingly cool as Meg walked down the busy sidewalk, trying to hail a cab, which was not as easy as it looked. And all the while, her thoughts were running wild.

_Catherine is pregnant! _It had been weeks since Meg had heard the news and she still couldn't get over the shock. It was absolutely _wonderful_!

_But the baby… and Vincent. _Meg thought. _That was the frightening part. What if the baby is born with a flattened nose and cheekbones and a split lip? What if it has fur, and claws instead of fingernails? And fangs – what if it has fangs?_

_No, that's unlikely. _Meg told herself firmly. _After all, no one is born like that. Vincent must have had a lot of those things added on while he was a baby, before they threw him out. No one could possibly be born like that._

_But then again, when they found him, he didn't have teeth, did he? _Meg realized. _Okay, so maybe some of it is natural… but Catherine is completely normal, so the baby can't be completely a beast. Maybe the baby will just have slightly longer teeth, and a bit of fur? Or maybe the baby will just have faster-growing fingernails and broader cheekbones, and maybe even a flattened nose. Or maybe all the baby will inherit from Vincent is his personality somewhat, and maybe his normal features, like… like his eyes. _She tried to think of one normal thing about him, and could only think of his eyes, which was not exactly true, for his eyes weren't normal; they were an amazing azure blue that she had never seen in anyone's eyes before. So deep, clear and sincere… it was amazing.

A cab pulled over and let her in the backseat, where a man was also in the back, being driven somewhere. "The Italian Eatery, please." Meg said as the cabbie drove away.

"Hey, that's where I'm headed, too." The man sitting beside her said, turning to her.

It was Joe Maxwell, Meg was sure of it. For the few minutes she had spoken to him over at Catherine's the other night, and from all she had heard about Joe and his 'dark good looks', it had to be him. Here was a man with black hair, dark eyes, light skin, an easy-going smile – yes, it had to be him.

His eyes widened when he saw Meg, for he was pretty certain that it was Meg, Catherine's cousin with whom he had spoke with over at Catherine's two evenings ago. Was it? She certainly seemed to be recognizing him.

"I'm Joe Maxwell." He extended his hand to her. "I'm afraid we haven't properly met."

"Not properly, to be sure." Meg laughed shaking his hand. "I'm Meg Scottson, Catherine's cousin."

Joe laughed. "And of all things, we wound up sharing the same cab."

"Funny, isn't it?" Meg agreed. "Mr. Maxwell-"

"Joe." Joe corrected her.

Meg smiled. So far, everything was going as planned, to a T. "Joe," she said. "I am pretty sure you have a good idea of why I would like to speak to you, of why I asked you out tonight."

Joe hesitated. "It's either because even though you are married, you have this enormous crush on me and can't resist or you want to talk about what we were talking about the other night." He looked at her, eyebrows raised. "and being realistic it's the latter, correct?"

Meg nodded. "Correct."

Joe sighed. "I knew it."

Meg laughed. "Um, Joe, what I'd like to discuss with you, I'm sure you know is-"she glanced over at the cabbie and then back to Joe. "I'm sure you know that it is somewhat private."

Joe nodded, so Meg continued. "But as I can clearly tell, you have told no one of our conversation, and you did as much as to not call any one of us crazy, so I'd like to thank you for it. Your tact and… whatever else has helped a lot."

"Thank you… I think." Joe said as the cabbie stopped the cab at the Italian Eatery. Joe turned to the cabbie. "How much do I owe you?" he asked.

"I'll pay." Meg said. Handing the cabbie required amount, the cabbie drove away, leaving Meg and Joe on the curb.

Joe turned to Meg and smiled his award-winning smile. "Shall we go inside?"

She took his offered arm and walked inside the formal Italian restaurant, all the while getting so nervous her teeth were hurting. Was he going to believe her, or pass her off as a crazy? Well, she was about to find out.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"You simply can't be serious!" Catherine said, shaking her head in disbelief.

"Yes, I simply can." Vincent replied. It was that evening, just as Meg got into the taxi, Vincent was telling Catherine of his day.

"Well, what words did you request the definitions to?" Catherine asked, still so shocked the Lincoln had such awful words come out of his mouth.

"Well, according to this piece of paper Lincoln handed to me, the definition of tactful is 'an adjective: having or showing a sense of what is fitting and considerate in dealing with others - showing skill and sensitivity in dealing with people'." He read.

"And?" Catherine pressed.

"And the dictionary says this under obedience – 'a noun: the act of obeying; dutiful or submissive behavior with respect to another person - the trait of being willing to obey - behavior intended to please your parents'." Vincent read Lincoln's scrawled handwriting. "And then next to that he put in parentheses that it said to please his parents, not Vincent."

"Well, surely you pointed out that his parents want him to obey you, as well?" Catherine asked.

Vincent shook his head. "I was too tired by then to put up a fuss with him." He sighed, sitting on the bed. "How on earth am I supposed to raise a child when I cannot handle a fifteen-year-old boy?"

"We'll manage, I'm sure." Catherine said soothingly. "Father handled you pretty well – I'm sure if we need any pointers, he'll tell us before we even ask."

Vincent nodded, knowing that that was certainly the truth.

"And besides," Catherine's eyes twinkled. "It seems your form of punishment would get any child to straighten up. Copying out of the dictionary? I would have just hit him!"

Vincent sighed. "I know that if I hit Lincoln, that I will hurt him." He said. "It is inevitable – with using just barely any of my strength I could kill someone."

Catherine looked t him seriously. "You mean you aren't going to spank our child?"

Vincent looked at her. "We haven't even discussed forms of punishment yet."

"Well, we might as well." Catherine stretched. "I've got plenty of time right now, and if you're going to be in here anyways… how did Father punish you?"

Vincent looked a bit bemused. "Me, Devin, or the other children?"

"Why?" Catherine wanted to know. "Did he punish you in different ways?"

Vincent nodded. "For the most part, yes. He suited the punishment to each child."

"How'd he punish most of the children?" Catherine asked.

"Well," Vincent thought back the twenty plus years. "He would sometimes strike them, but usually make them write sentences, or turn them over to their parents, if they had any. Some alone time in their chamber, or no supper, things like that."

"And how'd he punish Devin?" Catherine asked.

Vincent couldn't help but chuckle. "You name it, Father tried it. He did everything aside from hanging Devin by his neck. Between yelling at him, talking to him, spanking him, giving him silent treatments, keeping him alone in his chamber, no food for a day… you name any way to punish anyone, whether it be cruel or justified, Devin got it." He shook his head. "And none of them worked. Father was always too hard on Devin though."

"And you?" Catherine asked. "How did he punish you?"

"Well, up until he was ten, all I had to do was give him a gentle talking to, tell him I was ashamed of him and he'd burst into tears." Father answered the question with a fond smile, stepping into the chamber.

Catherine couldn't help but stare at Vincent. She had seen him cry before, but after a very gentle talking to, and telling him that Father was ashamed? "Just a gentle talking to and he cried?"

"Inconsolable. Devastated. His heart in two or three pieces." Father assured her. Then he looked up at Vincent, remembering when the tall, strong man had been a small child. "Until he was about ten or eleven. Then he toughened up on me."

"I should have kept crying." Vincent observed out loud, "It could have spared me some pain."

Catherine was amused. "This sounds like an interesting story."

"I could swear that I was spanked every day until my twenty-first birthday." Vincent smiled, looking down at his father.

"No, no, not every day." Father turned to Catherine. "He was a good child – he could have only been spanked once every two or three weeks."

"Well, it felt like everyday." Vincent laughed. "Have you come to check on Catherine, Father?"

Father nodded. "Just in case. If I may, Catherine, Vincent?" At their nods, he began feeling around her ankle.

"Seems to be a lot of checking for just a broken ankle." Catherine observed.

"It cannot be checked on too often." Father said. "We do not want it healing wrongly when I am just down the hall."

"So, spanked often until your twenty-first birthday?" Catherine smiled up at Vincent, her green eyes sparkling. "Isn't twenty a little too old to get spanked?"

"Not on Father's account." Vincent laughed.

"A child is not fully-grown until his or her twenty-first birthday." Father stated. "It is a general rule."

"Actually, it is eighteen now, Above." Catherine stated. "One is considered an adult at eighteen now."

"Eighteen?" Father seemed shocked. "Eighteen? Eighteen-year-olds are still adolescents – youth! Full-grown adults at eighteen?" He shook his head. "Then I suppose, if people could get married at fourteen when I was younger, than now they can be an adult at eighteen, I suppose." He looked back and forth at Vincent and Catherine. "How did this conversation get started anyways?"

"Catherine and I were discussing the methods of punishing a child." Vincent explained.

"Ah." Father said. "Have you figured out how you will be punishing yours?"

"We're still discussing that." Vincent admitted. "Which is also something I should like to discuss with you later, Father, if you do not mind?"

"Of course not." Father assured his son. He noticed the crumpled piece of paper that Vincent had left lying on the bed. He picked it up, smoothed it out, and began to read it out loud. "'Smart-aleck – a noun: an upstart who makes conceited, sardonic, insolent comments. Synonyms: wise guy, wiseacre, wisenheimer'?" Father looked up strangely at the couple. "What is this?"

Catherine giggled. "You made him write 'smart-aleck' too?"

Vincent took the paper from Father. "I had a bit of trouble with Lincoln today, and while trying to think up an adequate punishment for him, discovered he had fallen asleep in an English class and couldn't use a dictionary. So I decided his punishment would be looking up certain words in the dictionary and writing down their definitions, synonyms, et cetera."

Father took the piece of paper back from Vincent. "'Respect', 'Obedience', 'Tactful'. ' Smart-Aleck', 'elder', 'deference', kindness', 'cruelty', 'harshness', 'ruthless', unpitying'… and it seems to go on and on." He looked up at Vincent seriously. "What kind of felony did this boy do exactly, Vincent?"

Vincent sighed, not wanting to go through the explanation again, for it did cause him a bit of humiliation, but he had no choice but to respect his father's wishes. "He told me, in front of the entire class by the way, that I was an animal, learning was a waste of everyone's time, and brings up some killing that happened because of me. He also managed to mock me and make fun of me further in front of the children, and in private."

Father sighed. "I suppose I should talk to his parents."

"No." Vincent said. "It is all right. I think we have some sort of mutual understanding now. If he continues to act this way though, I will be sure to tell his parents." His eyes twinkled. "Though the children were so excited and bursting with news by the time class let out that I'm surprised I haven't heard it over the pipes by now."

Father and Catherine shared his chuckles. "Well," Father said with a cough. "I suppose I will leave you two alone now. Vincent," he turned to his son before he left the baby's chamber. "I have not had a chance to talk to you since last evening; I trust everything, er, worked out fine?"

"Yes, Father; it did." Vincent confirmed. "We shall talk more of it later tonight, perhaps?"

Father nodded agreeably. "I shall set up the chess board." He left the chamber.

Catherine looked at Vincent, question in her eyes. "What were you two talking about?"

Vincent shook his head. "Nothing important."

Catherine picked up the piece of paper and pretended to read off of it, even though the words she was reading weren't on the paper. "Liar, a noun: A person who has told a lie or who lies repeatedly. Synonymous with 'liar, liar, pants-on-fire'. Untruthful, an adjective: not expressing-"

"It is not important!" Vincent protested, taking the sheet of paper from Catherine. "It's just… private."

"Oh." Catherine said. "So it's… okay, sorry."

Vincent felt as if he owed her some elaboration, so he tried to elaborate some. "It has to do with ridding myself of mud." He said slowly.

"Oh." Catherine said again, only this time with laughter. "I forgot."

"Catherine," Vincent said slowly.

"Yes?" she said, noticing his sudden change of mood. "What is it?"

"About what you had said yesterday, about furthering our… our relationship." He said slowly. "Well, upon thought, even though… even though Father has his reservations and I must admit, I do too. Even in spite all of that… I think that you and I might try… try furthering it – slowly." He said finally.

"Really?" Catherine asked.

He nodded, trying to keep the blush from reaching his cheeks, but it was pointless. "You ask for so little and give so much, and you did have a point there yesterday, that since it is our… our dream… yes, let us try furthering our relationship but," he added the catch. "If any of us wants to change our minds, or stop or if I hurt you or anything of the like, we tell each other, all right?"

Catherine nodded, too happy for words. And while she knew that if anyone else had just heard what he had just said, the would think that he wasn't sure he loved her. But she knew that wasn't the case; he was just worried about whether he was truly right for her, "All right." She said softly, squeezing his arm. "Your-"she stopped, her expressions changing from tearfully happy to plain confused. "Your arm… it feels… funny – what happened to it?"

His face set in a grim line. What should he do? Tell her nothing happened? Should he tell her the truth? Certainly lying wasn't a good idea but…

"It doesn't feel as soft as… furry." She said slowly. And just as slowly, she started to roll up his sleeve.

Vincent had to grit his teeth, trying not to stop her from continuing to roll up his sleeve and at the same time trying not to ask for more. And he also wanted to calm the shivering feeling and other things that happened at her touch.

"Vincent…" Catherine said slowly, once seeing his shaven arm. "What… what happened?" she blinked back tears of confusion.

Carefully, he rolled back down the sleeve of his shirt. "Father told me to get rid of the mud that way." He told her gently. "I look normal without fur? Is that why you're crying?" he tried to understand.

"Oh, no." she answered his question, using the sleeve of the borrowed nightgown to wipe away her tears. "Those are just tears left over from being so happy, and…" she laughed a bit self-consciously. " Tears of missing your fur. I rather liked it."

Vincent couldn't believe his ears. She _liked_ him furred like a beast. "Well, if it's any consolation, I am still me, with or without fur, and Father assured me that it will grow back in a matter of days."

"That's good." Catherine said, cuddling up against him, causing him to lean back against the headboard of the bed. He struggled to catch his breath, his heart beating faster than ever. Did she even _know_ what she did to him when she did that?

"Mmm." Catherine said softly. "You smell good."

Vincent didn't know what to say to that. "Actually-"he began.

She sat up and glared at him. "Don't do that again." She said. "Just accept the compliment and let it sink in, okay?"

He nodded, as she lay back down against him. "Thank you." He whispered in her ear. "For everything."

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"The Italians are known for their great food." Joe said. "You didn't know that?"

Meg shook her head, swallowing a bite of salad. "No, I can't say that I did."

"Where have you been?" Joe asked teasingly. "In a cave?"

Meg took a deep breath. It was now or never. "Actually, I have."

"What?" Joe asked, confused.

"I have been in a cave." She repeated.

"Oh, no." Joe said. "Here we go again, playing ring-around-the-crazy-story."

"Joe please, can you take me seriously. Take Catherine and me both seriously." Meg pleaded with him. "Her boyfriend, I guess you can call him, the future Father of her baby is," she leaned forward so the entire restaurant couldn't hear. "_Is_ leonine looking, is very different looking, and his existence is hidden from the rest of the world. It has to be or people would kill him. I know it sounds crazy, but please Joe, believe me."

Joe shook his head. "I'm gonna need proof, Goldilocks." He referred to her honey-blonde hair.

Meg made a face. "A new nickname. Cute. Well, I have no proof right now with me, but can you at please listen to what I have to say, for Catherine?"

Joe sighed. "Tell me, what do you mean by 'leonine'?"

"Like a lion." Meg attempted to explain. "He kind of resembles a lion."

"How?" Joe asked. "As in personality, I'm sure your saying?"

"No." Meg shook her head. "In personality he reminds me of… a kitten." She couldn't help but giggle, thinking about how sweet and naïve he was. "But on the outside, he looks like a lion."

"How's that possible?" Joe questioned, clearly not believing her.

"Its not." Meg admitted. "But it's true. He's got this enormous stature. Not fat, but tall, strong and broad. He can lift steamer trunks and move boulders."

"Oh, so he's got a large physique." Joe said with a shrug, taking a bite of his meatball. "You could have just said that."

"No, there more to it then that." Meg insisted. "He's got… well, he's got fur, for one thing."

Joe nearly choked on his meatball. "What do you say?" he gasped for breath, taking a sip of his Pepsi and dabbing is watering eyes with a napkin.

"He's got fur." Meg repeated.

Joe looked stunned for a moment, but then continued eating. "Oh, so he's a hairy guy." He said. "Big whoop."

Meg sighed. "No, I mean _fur_, like fur on a dog, or better example, a lion? Fur, covering nearly ever inch of his body, or well, at least every inch I've seen." She added the last part with a bit of a laugh and a blush.

Joe kind of stared at her. "You mean you've seen this man?"

Meg nodded. "Yes. And he's… he's got claws."

Joe stared at her even more, fork held in midair. "Claws?" he repeated.

"Yes, claws." Meg said firmly. "Not super long fingernails – claws. Claws like you would see on a cat or on, or a dog, for example."

Joe shook his head. "You're pulling my leg."

"No." Meg said. "I know it sounds crazy, and I still don't believe it, even though I saw it, but it's true. And he's got a flat nose and broad cheeks like… like a lion." She pulled a picture of a lion out of her purse she had brought along, to show Joe what she meant by that.

Joe chuckled. "Really funny, Meg. Now lets get serious; what did you want to talk about?"

Meg thumped the table. "Do you think I'd take you out for an expensive meal to joke around? Listen to me!"

Joe nodded slowly, seeing that the woman was angry. "All right, all right." He said. "I'm listening."

"Good." Meg said sharply. "Now I know you don't believe me, but let's say you did; what would you think of a man who was born like that?"

Joe shrugged. "I'd just assume he has downs syndrome or something, and happens to be big and hairy, or should I say, furry."

Meg shook his head. "Far from downs syndrome – he's probably one of the smartest men in the world. And people with downs syndrome usually don't have a bifurcated lip."

"Bifurcated?" Joe questioned. "What's that mean?"

"Like a cleft lip." Meg attempted to explain, "or a hole from the top lip all the way to the nose, like in this lion." She showed him the picture once again. "It looks just like that."

Joe shuddered. "You gotta be kidding me."

"No!" Meg insisted. "And look, he's got a mane just like that. And fangs, teeth as sharp as a lion and long sharp fangs. I'm serious."

Joe leaned back and shook his head, massaging his temples. "Joe Maxwell, your going crazy."

Meg paused tentatively. "Joe," she said finally. "If you met him, would you promise not to tell anyone, or tell anyone where they lived? Promise not to kick him and his family out of their home?"

"Depends." Joe said, still not fully believing her. "Are they dangerous? Carnivorous? Are they all like him?"

Meg shook her head, a hint of a smile on her face. "No, he's the only strange looking one. The rest of his family are all perfectly normal. He's not dangerous, unless your threatening Catherine, which of course, your not, and while I don't think he a vegetarian, he won't eat you, if that what you mean."

"Fur, fangs, but not ferocious?" Joe asked, shaking his head. "The three F's?"

"Something of the like." Meg laughed. "But aside from his appearance, he's a normal man. He's kind and loving and-"

"Wait a minute." Joe said abruptly. "This is the man Cathy is seeing? She's expecting his child?"

Meg nodded. "Yes."

Joe stood up, the glasses on the table clinkering. "Meg, if what you say is true, she's in danger!"

"What? Why? How?" Meg stood up, a bit alarmed.

"If she's expecting a baby with claws, and fangs, and a mane, and-"Joe looked really worried.

Meg laughed softly. "Joe, people are staring. And she's not expecting the baby until the end of December. Please, Joe, sit down."

Together, they took their seats again. "Now, I'm not saying I believe you." Joe warned her. "But supposing I did, I'd want to know more about this guy. What's his name again?"

"Vincent." Meg reminded him. "He's thirty-seven, if I remember correctly. His family found him when he was a baby, abdon-"

"You mean they aren't really his family?" Joe asked.

"Ssh, Joe, don't draw attention." Meg reminded him. "Let me start at the beginning. In the 1940's-"

"Man, we _are_ starting at the beginning." Joe commented.

Meg smiled. "Yes. In the 1940's, there was a doctor named Jacob Wells who, through a series of unfortunate events, lost his job, wife, career, nearly all his friends – everything."

"Sorry guy." Joe commented absently, taking a sip of his champagne.

Meg ignored the comment and continued. "He was in such a sorry state; I'm not quite sure what happened. I don't know if he tried to kill himself, or if he was homeless and almost died or what, but eventually he met a woman named Grace, and she showed him a new world."

Joe looked doubtful. "Like Wonderland or Oz? Meg, just because I might, and I mean _might_, not saying I do, just because I might believe that this guy, Vincent, could be real, I don't believe in fairy worlds."

"Just listen." Meg said. "You promised you'd keep this a secret, right?" At his nod, she continued. "Well, underneath the city there are tunnels. Tons of them. And in those tunnels that man, Jacob Wells, the women Grace, and several other people have formed a world, a community of some sort. They have their own laws and rules, and are like family."

"What?" Joe couldn't believe his ears. "Not possible. I would have known-"

"Not many people know; that's the point." Meg said. "The tunnels are a place different from our world. There everyone gets along in peace. Everyone is loved and accepted because of who they are, not because of what they look like or what they can do. I think they described it as a refuge, and it is. Many people couldn't exist without that world."

Joe shook his head, not believing what he was hearing. "Continue on with the story."

"Well, several years passed and the man, Jacob, became the leader of the community, kind of." Meg said. "And then I believe Grace became pregnant with his child and had a baby boy. Father delivered the baby, of course, since he was a doctor, but she died. He named the boy Dustin or something, because that's what Grace wanted. This was probably like, 1950's, early 50's, I think."

"Are we getting anywhere with this story?" Joe wanted to know.

"Yes, we are." Meg assured him. "Then, a couple years later, a Helper was-"

"Helper?" Joe interrupted.

Meg sighed. "Yes. A person from Above, that is, the normal world, not from the tunnels, who knows about Below is a Helper. They provide food and supplies and help keep the Tunnels a secret. Anyways," she continued. "A couple years later, or I guess thirty-seven years ago, a Helper named Anna was walking down behind St. Vincents Hospital. I don't know what she was doing there. Anyway, she was old, half-blind, half-deaf, I think it was snowing and really cold and anyways, she heard a baby crying."

"Even though she was practically deaf?" Joe was impressed. "But then again, it's a hospital; a lot of babies are in hospitals."

"But this one wasn't in the hospital." Meg explained. "It was outside, in a dumpster."

"What? Why? That's an offense!" Joe exclaimed.

Meg nodded, motioning for him to keep his voice down with her finger over her lips. "Yes, it is. Anyways, this baby was really, really, really tiny and really, really, really malnourished."

"That's six 'really's'." Joe held up six fingers.

Meg sighed, exasperated. "Can't you take _anything_ seriously?"

"Sorry!" he held up his hands in surrender. "Keep talking."

Meg tried not to smile at the man's goofiness as she continued with the story. "He was covered in fur, or at least, I think he was. Maybe he didn't, because babies don't have hair." Meg kept getting sidetracked. "But anyway, he did have a split lip and claws, and the flattened nose and all, and she was practically blind, but she could see that something was wrong with him, so she took him Below, to Jacob."

"Why?" Joe asked. "Why not to the authorities?"

"Because Jacob fed him, nourished him, clothed him, held him and loved him properly, and still does." Meg exclaimed. "The baby, who is, of course Vincent, calls Jacob 'Father' and has a family, and is loved by everyone Below. He has the best education in the world, probably, and the best home. What do you think his life would have been like had Anna turned him over to the authorities?"

Joe shrugged. "You know more about this than I do; you tell me."

"He would have probably been put into some science lab and studied under a microscope every day of his life." Meg said. "I would doubt that he would still be alive, seeing is how he surely wouldn't have been fed and nourished properly, and I'm sure he wouldn't have anyone to call his family. He probably would barely know how to talk, if he knew at all, and certainly wouldn't be able to read, and one can hardly call a cage and a microscope the best home. What do you think?"

Joe shook his head. "I think I need another glass of champagne."

"Joe, please!" She pleaded with him. "Take me seriously!"

"All right, all right." Joe said. "I guess I'm under a bit of shock." He eyed her carefully. "Your really serious about this, aren't you?"

"Yes!" Meg exclaimed. "More serious than you can imagine! You think I would lie about this?"

Joe shrugged. "I hardly know you. But what do I think?" he took a deep breath. "I think I gotta talk to Moreno."

"No!" Meg nearly shouted. "You promised to keep this a secret!"

Joe looked at her, realizing for the first time that she really meant no monkey business, that she was absolutely serious, and that at least she believed that she was telling the truth. "All right, I won't tell anyone." He said finally. "Your gonna kill me, but in order to believe this-"

"You have to see it." Meg already knew what he was going to say and finished his sentence. "Are you done eating?"

He pushed his now cold plate of spaghetti away from him. "I can't eat anymore, not knowing if what your saying is true or not." He told her. "I'll pay the bill."

"No." Meg argued. "I'll pay the bill; you just leave the tip."

"No." Joe insisted. "You paid the cabbie, and I'm the man. I'll pay both for the meal and the tip."

"No!" Meg said. "I'm the one who asked you out for dinner!"

"We'll make a deal." Joe said. "You pay for both the meal and the tip, and if I find out that all you have been saying is true, I'll reimburse my share of it. Deal?"

"Deal." Meg said, shaking his hand. "Now let's go catch a cab."

"Why?" Joe asked nonchalantly, following Meg after she paid out to the sidewalk. "Why don't we just jump down a manhole or flush ourselves down the toilets or something?"

She sighed, giving him a slight glare. "I said they lived beneath the city, not in the sewer. And remember; be sure not to let the cabbie know what you're talking about." That said, she hailed the taxi.


	24. Chapter 24

"I have been thinking." Vincent mused, absent-mindedly stroking Catherine's hair.

"Oh, no – that's dangerous." Catherine commented, leaning against his hard muscled chest. They hasn't spoken in an hour and she was kind of disappointed that he did, because he had been making a purring sound with his throat for the past forty-five minutes. She had thought he was asleep. He wasn't, apparently; just extremely content and deep in thought, with his eyes shut.

It had been an hour since Vincent and Catherine's conversation on furthering their relationship, and they were now and the same position they had been then; him sitting on her bed, back against the headboard, legs stretched diagonally on the bed, feet hanging of the bed just wear his boots began; Catherine fully lying on the bed, snuggled against his chest.

"What have you been thinking?" she asked him, knowing he wasn't used to such jokes. She turned over, now resting her head on his lap, so she could see his face.

"About Maria." Vincent said, with his heart beating really fast. It did that every time she got anywhere close him, of course, but whenever she laid her head on his lap, or trusted him enough to give him an embrace, it just thrilled him, time and time again.

Catherine sighed, frustrated. "I think she's jealous of me spending time with you and all. She views you as her private property." She shook her head. "Both Maria and Mouse idolize you; those two are smarter than most people give them credit for."

Vincent chuckled, knowing that to be true. Mouse and Maria did both idolize him, and he was considered Maria's private property – by Maria, at least. "Well, today I explained to her of how my time has been spent; on journeys, pipes and such."

"And what'd she say?" Catherine asked, missing that rumbling sound from his chest and throat that stopped every time he spoke. It was growing fainter and fainter every time he stopped talking, too.

"She seemed to understand that, relatively." Vincent said. "I also tried to explain to her that I feel pulled in all of these different directions, how I should love to play with her, give her piggy-back rides, go 'exploring' and such, but I also feel committed – and want to play chess while talking to Father, talk and read with you, learn about what Mouse is up to and keep him out of trouble, and of course, all the children want my extra attention, not just during lessons and-"

"You cannot give one sole person your undivided attention." Catherine said. "Is that what you told her?"

"No, but those are the words I should have used." Vincent admitted. "I told her that in more complicated terms, I think. But I did tell her that we would do something together soon, something fun."

"What do you have in mind?" Catherine asked him, very curious and a bit suspicious.

"Well, tonight I owe her a story." Vincent told Catherine. "I promised I would tell her one two days ago and never got around to it. And then I was thinking…I'm not sure… that perhaps you and I could both do something with her." He eyed Catherine carefully. "You do not think I'm spoiling the child, do you?"

"No, not at all." Catherine's laugh rang merrily, though disappointed that the purring had finally come to an end. "I think your acting as the father she never had, and it's sweet. It gives you great practice." She smiled up at him. "I love you."

He could have died right there, but he willed himself to remain calm. "Do you have any ideas?" he asked her.

"About something we could do with her?" Catherine asked. "Well, thanks to this broken ankle of mine, I can't do much, but it leaves me a lot for time for thinking, at least."

"Well, do you have any ideas right off?" Vincent asked her.

Catherine thought a moment. "I think I do. Didn't you tell me earlier that you told her she'd always be your 'special girl'?"

Vincent nodded. "I have a feeling our baby is a boy, and now I surely hope so, otherwise I'd have to call the baby a princess or something."

"And God knows she won't need that!" Catherine explained. "You'll be spoiling the baby enough as it is!"

"So, your idea?" Vincent pressed.

"I can't tell you now!" Catherine said. "You'll find out later!"

"How later?" Vincent asked. Catherine noticed that those rare smiles of his were becoming more and more frequent and not-so-rare.

"Soon." She promised. "Now shoo! It has to be nearing eight-thirty or nine, and you need to read to that child before she goes to bed!"

Vincent nodded slowly. Stiffly, he got out of the bed and laid her back down on it. "Goodnight." He whispered in her ear.

A tingling sensation went through her body as his lips touched her ear. "Will you come back before you go to sleep?" she asked him.

"I promise." He assured her as he left the chamber.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"I thought you said that Vincent and his family lived underneath the ground, not fifty stories up in an apartment." Joe panted as he jogged with Meg up the stairs to Catherine's apartment.

"They do live beneath the city." Meg said. "And Catherine's apartment is eighteen stories, not fifty. I just wanted to change into something more comfortable for going Below."

"Couldn't we have taken the elevator?" he asked, still catching his breath.

She studied him for a moment. "Nah, the climb won't hurt your figure any."

"Ha ha." He laughed sarcastically at her remark as they approached her room. Meg produced the key and let them in.

"Where's Catherine?" Joe looked around expectantly, loosening his tie. He was glad he didn't wear a black formal suit since that would probably get ruined underground. He was glad he had opted for the simple slacks, shirt and tie.

"She's Below, with a broken ankle." Meg explained to Joe, taking out the beaded pin and replacing it with a ponytail on the back of her head.

"A broken ankle?" Joe sounded worried. "How did she manage that?"

"Getting a bit angry and turned around, and then slipped, all while Below." She told Joe. "It's a maze down there. With or without the bond, I think it's a miracle they found her at all."

Ignoring the comment about a bond, since he figured he was already trying to take in enough information, he commented on the description of a maze. "We won't get lost, will we?"

Meg shook her head. "I doubt it. I've traveled that path so many times the past couple days, I probably couldn't get lost even if I tried. I'll be right back." she told him with a smile, disappearing into Catherine bedroom and shutting the door behind her.

"Wow." Joe said under his breath. That woman, Meg, was magnificent. She seemed so… so determined, light and airy, stubborn, graceful, happy, and… so much more, all at the same time. And she was so beautiful… her honey-blonde hair that hung in ringlets around her face… was that natural? And her blue eyes… and her smile, that looked like a string of pearls. And…

_Stop that, Joe!_ He scolded himself. _She's married, for Pete's sake! Don't go around thinking about how wonderful she is, if that's the case! Grow up!_

Meg reappeared from the bedroom, obviously completely unaware of what Joe had been thinking, which was definitely a good thing – Vincent handling a bond was one thing, but Joe with one was a completely different ball game.

"Ready to go?" she asked him. She looked stunning, even dressed in simple jeans and a red T-shirt and regular tennis shoes. Joe decided that red and blue were definitely her colors.

_Stop it Joe! _He scolded himself once again. _You're not the type to hit on married women!_

"Ready to go?" Meg repeated, her smile now fading.

Joe nodded. "I'm ready. Did I ever tell you how marvelous you looked this evening?"

"No, you didn't." Meg's smile returned.

"Well, then not telling you was a mistake." Joe said. _Stop it! _He once again scolded himself. _Never ever will you drink champagne again in the company of a married woman – never!_

"Why, thank you." Meg laughed. "You looked pretty hott yourself. Come on, let's go."

Joe followed her out of the apartment willingly and onto the elevator. "We're taking the elevator down to the basement." She said with a smile. "I don't want to get you tired or anything."

"Nope, we wouldn't want that." He said, returning the smile, all the while thinking he was a sinner and a crazy one at that.

Finally, they reached the basement of the apartment building. "Ugh." Joe said. "Smells dusty in here." He wiped his hand on top of a must and examined the thick layer of dust that came off on his finger.

"Get used to it." Meg returned as she followed the now familiar path to the ladder. "Below smells like dripping candle wax, dirt, since the floor is made out of it and cold rocks, kind of. It's a… unusual smell. Oh, and the smell of old leather and vintage books. It smells largely of that." She started descending down the ladder.

"Where are you going?" Joe asked her.

"Below." She answered with a laugh. "Come on."

Taking a deep breath, Joe followed her down there. That was it; he had to be out of his mind or crazy, probably the latter. Here he was, thinking that a world may exist underground, where a beast/man lived, all the while crushing or falling in love with a married woman!_ Crazy, absolutely crazy, Joseph Maxwell. _He muttered to himself as he finished climbing down the steel ladder.

"What'd you say?" she asked him.

"Nothing." he said. "Just talking to myself." He looked down at the soft dirt ground they were standing on. There were Meg's footprints; he recognized them from the ones that she was making now. And those other ones had to be Catherine's; they were so similar in size to Meg's. And aside from the footprints he was making himself now, there was one other set. It looked like the footsteps of a giant.

"Who made those footprints?" Joe asked, stopping in his tracks to examine the footprint. It had shape, but no print at the bottom of the shoe.

Meg knelt down across from Joe, her hair toppling over head face, their heads nearly touching. "Oh, that's Vincent's footprints." Meg said. "You had me thinking there was some sort of intruder." She laughed.

"There's no print at the bottom of this boot." Joe said curiously, standing up and continuing to follow Meg through the tunnels that were lighted dimly with small flickered candles.

"No, there's not." Meg said. "I think he wears boots made of really thick leather, sewn, to make a boot. No rubber sole, so there is no print at the bottom, and it hardly makes a track."

"_Rubber Soul_ happens to be one of my favorite albums." Joe commented. "And _Girl_ is my favorite track."

"Ha ha." Meg said sarcastically. "Rubber sole and rubber soul. Track as in the footprint, track as in the order of the songs being played. Hilarious."

"I try." Joe said.

They found themselves in the long corridor, in which linked all of the chambers together. It was lit a lot better than where they had come from.

"Uh, Meg?" Joe said hesitantly.

"Yes?" she turned to the dark haired man beside her.

"I, er, think I believe you now, about the underground world thing, at least." He said. He looked at her sharply. "We aren't going to be seeing what's-his-face, are we?"

"Vincent?" Meg said. "Probably, but don't worry. He'll know you're around before you'll know he's around and he'll be careful, I think. I don't think he'd jump out and scare you or anything."

"I wouldn't be scared." Joe scoffed. "Where's Cathy? She's not alone with him, is she?" he knew that even if she was, it didn't sound like this Vincent would harm her, but one couldn't be too careful.

"I don't know, but let's go see her." Meg said, leading the way down the corridor. "But if you don't want Vincent to know we're here, don't make a sound, because we're going to be passing his chamber, that is, his room."

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"'Their house was small, for the lumber to build it had to be carried by wagon many miles'." Vincent read _The Wizard of Oz_ to Maria that evening. He was sitting on his chair and she on his lap. "'There were four walls a floor and a roof, which made one room and this room contained a rusty looking cook stove, a cupboard for the dishes, a table, three or four chairs, and the beds. Uncle Henry and Aunt Em had a big bed in one corner and Dorothy a little bed in another corner'."

"I'd like to meet Dorothy." Maria stated childishly.

Vincent chuckled. "I used to wish the same thing when I was a child. Have you ever thought about-"he stopped, craning his ear.

"What is it, Vincent?" Maria asked.

Vincent shook his head. "I thought I heard someone walk by, their footsteps were unfamiliar to me but it seems I was just imagining it." He turned back to what he was asking her before they were interrupted by what he assumed was his imagination. "Have you ever-"

Vincent smelled something strange now too. His nose moved slightly, taking in the new smell. It smelled like cologne and… and someone he didn't know. Who was Below? Certainly if someone, like an intruder, had come Below, he would have been caught by now.

"What is it, Vincent?" the girl asked, noticing his strange behavior. He was doing the same thing as the kitten she used to have. Cuddles' nose would move when she smelled something she had never smell before, when she was trying to figure out what it was.

"I thought I smelled someone…" he said. " Someone whose smell is alien to me. Perhaps there is someone here we do not know about-"he tried to explain, but Maria interrupted.

"I'm scared." She stated. "Who is it?"

Vincent realized he was making it out to be bigger than it was, certainly, so he attempted to calm this little girl. "Nothing is the matter, nothing. Let's continue reading."

He kept reading, but his mind was no longer on the story he had read so many times before. Instead, his mind was on the strange sound, and the strange smell. Who new had come Below?

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

Catherine absent-mindedly doodled on a sheet of paper. She had been doodled flowers, swirling things, trees, houses, stars, hearts, and all of the usual stuff. She couldn't remember having been so bored in her entire lifetime! But she was determined not to show it. The last thing she wanted to appear was as a spoiled little rich girl that needed entertained. No, she just wouldn't anyone know of her complete boredom. Except Vincent; he probably knew, but she couldn't hide that from him. Besides, her boredom was nobody else's problem, and should stay that way.

"Catherine, can I come in?" Meg asked from the other side of the curtain.

"I wish you would!" Catherine exclaimed. "I was just thinking-"

She stopped short once Meg entered the chamber. Joe was with her.

"Joe!" Catherine exclaimed, running her hands through her hair, well aware of the fact that she was in a tunnel-style nightgown, hadn't brushed her hair and wasn't wearing makeup. "I-I hadn't thought that you would come."

"Radcliffe, you okay?" Joe asked, concerned. "How you feeling?"

"Fine." She yawned. "My ankle aches every now and then and my rear is numb from sitting down so much, but I'm fine." She looked questioningly at Meg. "Has he met-"

"No he hasn't." Meg answered her cousin "I think he's scared to."

"Does Vincent know?" Catherine wanted to know next.

Meg shook her head. "We've been as quiet as we could, and I don't think anyone saw us come down, so no, he probably doesn't know."

"How'd Joe take it?"

"He didn't believe me, of course; he thought I was crazy, but I think I've pretty much convinced now."

'Is anyone still aware that I'm still in the room??" Joe asked.

"Oops, sorry Joe." Meg apologized. "So, you believe me now, right?"

Joe nodded. "To tell you the truth, I am still a bit numb, and I think that somebody put far too much of something in the champagne, but yeah, I guess I believe you." He looked at Catherine carefully. "Why'd you want me to know? How come you didn't tell me before?"

"Number one, I wanted you to know because I'm asking for a lot of crazy time off, and I know it." Catherine said. "I need you to help cover my tracks, so that Moreno won't get suspicious and fire me or something. And number two, why didn't I tell you before? Because you wouldn't have believed me and besides, I wasn't sure you could be trusted."

Joe looked a bit hurt at that last remark, so Catherine attempted to soften the blow. "But I can trust you now obviously. As a matter of fact, I've been planning on telling you for awhile, just never found the opportune moment." She sighed. "There has been a lot of chaos going around lately, and I can't seem to keep my thoughts straight or have enough time for anything."

Joe shifted his feet a bit uncomfortably. "Okay, well you'll be back at the office on Monday, right?"

Catherine looked a bit skeptical. "Not sure. Father, that is, Vincent's father, doesn't want me on my feet for six weeks." She sighed. "I guess he wants me not to injure myself in any more possible ways until after the baby is born."

"Understandable." Joe said. "But there I absolutely no way Moreno will let you take off the rest of this month, and half of September, and still get October, November, December and some of January off. There's just no way; he probably thinks your taking your maternity leave now." He looked at her curiously. "Still you can't get around with crutches or something? Or a wheelchair?"

"You'd think a pair of crutches would do me fine." Catherine said. "But Father is being paranoid. I'll try to talk him into it."

"'Father'?" Joe asked, confused.

"Everyone calls Vincent's father, also known as Jacob Wells, 'Father'." Meg explained. "I don't quite understand quite why."

Suddenly Catherine heard familiar footsteps approaching the chamber door. "Ssh!" Catherine shushed Meg and Joe.

"Catherine?" Vincent's voice came through the curtain.

"I'm in here, Vincent." Catherine called through the curtain. "You can come in."

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"Do we have to stop now?" Maria couldn't help but whine.

Vincent nodded. "It is already past your bedtime, and I have more things to get done before I can get to bed."

"Like what?" she asked as Vincent gently slid her off his lap and stood up.

"Like things." He said. "I must move several things around in Catherine's chamber and see her before she retires, and I owe Father a chat and chess game. Not to mention the fact that Mary has been working so hard lately just for me, so I need to recognize that and ask her what I can do in return. And I'm sure that if Mouse has not already retired, then he will-"

"I get it." The girl said glumly. "You're busy."

Vincent rubbed her head with affection. "It is not so bad. Catherine said she had ideas for fun and interesting things we can do together; lets plan on it, all right?"

She nodded as they walked out of his chamber. "Goodnight." He gave her a loving kiss on the forehead as they parted, each going their own separate ways.

"Goodnight." She said, running off towards the chamber she shared with Samantha and another girl.

Vincent started heading towards the nearest chamber, the baby's chamber. He would see Catherine first thing.

As he approached Catherine's chamber, he heard someone say something, but he couldn't make out the voice or the words. He also smelled that strange new smell – or person - again.

"Catherine?" Vincent asked, hoping she was not asleep.

"I'm in here, Vincent." She called. So she was awake, that was definitely good. "You can come in." she said.

A smile showing up on his face, he pushed aside the curtain and stepped in. "Catherine, I am sorry it took so long for me to come back, but I-"he stopped right where he was. There was someone he had never seen before in her chamber. Quickly, he reached for the hood of his cloak to cover his face, but that's when he realized he wasn't wearing it, so he just tore from the room.

"Vincent!" Catherine cried out. But he didn't turn around – he just kept running.

_Someone new is Below!_ The thoughts raced through Vincent's mind. _She did not tell me or even warn me! Who was that? Who is it? And why is it that no one told me of his coming Below?_

He was paranoid. Absolutely paranoid. Anyone who came Below was a danger, of course, but that person had seen him! What would happen to him now? What would happen to the world Below? His biggest fear in the world that concerned him were of cages, one things that he was so close to every time he met someone new. But his biggest fear when it came to just himself was meeting new people, with absolutely no warning. That was something he was petrified over, because if he met someone unexpectedly, that's where his second biggest fear could transpire. Why had someone new come Below, without telling him first? Why?

He ran so fast. To where, he wasn't sure. He just ran and ran as fast as he could. Tears he didn't even realize were there were blinding him. He didn't quite understand why he was so frightened, but he didn't quite understand anything at the moment.

He found himself in Father's chamber. Father was sitting in a chair, reading a book called _All You Need to Know About Pathological Science_. Vincent collapsed on the steps and buried his head in his arms.

"Ah, Vincent." Father said, aware of Vincent's presence, but not yet aware of his state. "I am reading a very interesting book that I think you, and perhaps Catherine, will find greatly interesting. Do you-"he then noticed his son's very helpless looking position and noticed that Vincent's shoulders were shaking silently – with fear.

"Vincent!" Father exclaimed, quickly getting up and wrapping his arms around his son. "Vincent, what is wrong? Vincent?"

"C-Catherine-"Vincent attempted to explain. "A stranger…" he looked at his father, hurt clearly written across his face. " Why is it that no one told me? Especially you, Father. You know I do not like meeting people unexpectedly – it has always best for me to know ahead of time so I can plan it out! I tell you these things, Father, so you can aid me, not use that knowledge to make things harder for-"

Father interrupted, his face contorted with worry. "Vincent, what are you talking about?"

Vincent took a deep breath, trying to catch his breath. "A stranger, in the baby's chamber." He said.

"What?" Father asked, alarmed. "Is Catherine all right? Who is this person? Why isn't she-"

"Do you think I would have left her had I thought she wasn't perfectly safe?" Vincent looked even more hurt. "You know me better than that, Father!"

Father shook his head. Either he was having a bad dream, or Vincent was. This was just completely crazy. There was no way a stranger would have gotten Below without anyone knowing, and there was no way that Vincent would leave Catherine alone with a stranger. And Vincent being so… so emotionally hurt and fearful wasn't exactly usual either, though perhaps it was these days.

Vincent took another deep breath, determined to try to explain it better. "I got done reading with Maria and went to the baby's chamber, to speak with Catherine and-"

"You need no excuse to go to the baby's chamber, or to see Catherine, Vincent." Father intervened.

"And I asked if I could come in and Catherine said that I may. So I did and there was…. There was this man standing there!" Vincent exclaimed.

"A man?" Father was curious. "And Catherine wasn't alarmed?"

"Not at all!" Vincent said. "She had to know he was there though!" he looked at Father with confusion. "You did not know that…"

"No one told be anything about someone new coming Below." Father told Vincent honestly. "Had I known I would have told you first thing, wouldn't I have?"

Vincent nodded. "Catherine's feeling a bit shocked and confused right now." He said slowly. "And disappointed."

Father nodded. "I would bet on it." He sighed, picking up his cane. "I will go talk to her and that… that stranger."

Vincent stood up quickly. "They are coming this way! At least, Catherine is!"

"Calm down, son." Father tried to assure him. "Just calm down."

Catherine suddenly showed her face in Father's chamber, followed by Meg and of course, the stranger – Joe. "Father," Catherine said worriedly. "Vincent just-"then she eyed Vincent, who was eyeing Catherine, Meg and especially the stranger, very carefully.

"Catherine, Meg, and whoever-you-are." Father addressed the threesome. "Will you three please stay here? And Vincent?" He turned to Vincent who was standing there in the corner. "Go to your chamber."

Vincent went to his chamber submissively, walking past Meg, Catherine and the stranger to get out of Father's chamber. Now that he had had a few moments to calm down, he knew that his behavior was completely irrational, but it felt so… so natural to run away at that. Sure, Vincent could face Paracelsus and fight off warriors and brave cave-ins and slay murders, bombers and the like. But when it came to what should be a simple introduction, he ran away like a coward. He had done it all the time as a child, and more often lately. Was the madness coming back? What was wrong with him?

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"Catherine?" Vincent's voice came though the curtain.

"I'm in here, Vincent." Catherine answered back. "You can come in."

There was a slight smile on his face as he pushed aside the curtain and stepped in. "Catherine, I am sorry it took so long for me to come back, but I-"he stopped right where he was, eyeing Joe. A look of panic filled his face and he ran from the chamber.

"Vincent!" Catherine cried out. She tried to get out of bed to follow him.

"Hold up!" Joe commanded, now completely in shock after seeing that… that horrid face, but he was not too in shock to help Cathy when she needed it. "I thought you weren't supposed to be walking on that?"

"Help me, Joe, Meg!" Catherine said. "We've got to follow him!"

Catherine sat up and putting her arms around Meg and Joe, they made their way out of the baby's chamber.

"What was wrong with him? Meg asked Catherine as they hurried down the corridor. "He had this look of terror and left!"

"Perhaps it was too much of a surprise." Catherine moaned. "I thought surprising him would be better, so he wouldn't torment himself like he did when he met you, Meg."

"I don't think I was prepared enough." Joe said slowly. "He looked so… so…"

"We know what you mean." Meg said. "I felt the same way when I met him."

They stopped at Father's chamber, intending on telling him what happened. "Father," Catherine said worriedly. "Vincent just-"Suddenly she noticed Vincent standing off in the corner, eying the three, especially Joe, very critically.

"Catherine, Meg, and whoever-you-are." Father addressed them. "Will you three please stay here? And Vincent?" He turned to Vincent. "Go to your chamber."

Vincent walked out the chamber dutifully, walking past Meg, Catherine and Joe to get out of Father's chamber. Once he was out of there, Father looked at Catherine harshly. "I thought I told you not to walk on that – sit down!"

Joe and Meg carefully sat Catherine down on the chair that was usually reserved for Vincent. She tried to explain. "Father, this is Joe Maxwell." Catherine said. "He found out about Below and Vincent somewhat recently, but he only came down for the first time tonight, and it wasn't exactly… expected. I didn't mean for Vincent to be surprised like _that_, but if he knew he'd have to meet someone new, he'd just flip out and then-"

Father held up his hand, signaling for her to stop. "First of all, I assume that you and Meg told Joe with the baby, Vincent, and our world's best interest in mind, correct?"

At their nods, he continued. "And it seems to me that you didn't even give Vincent a two moment warning, at his best interest, right?" Father asked.

Again, they nodded. "Father, a-are you mad?" Catherine asked uncertainly. Certainly, Father would be furious, like a bubbling volcano by now!

Father shook his head. "It is… hard to explain." He held up the book he was reading. "Do any of you know what a pathological fear is?"

All three shook their heads. "No, I guess none of us do." Meg said awkwardly.

Father patiently explained. "A pathological fear is a fear that goes beyond all other fears," he explained to them. "It's a fear one can't be talked out of, or reasoned out of. Whether the fear is justified or not, there is no talking them out of it or calming them, down about it one bit. The thought of their fear horrifies the very life out of a person who has this fear."

"Vincent has a pathological fear." Father stated. "Sometimes he handles it quite well, and you would never know how much it torments or frightens him. But other times… it is not handled that way."

"What do you mean?" Catherine asked softly, a feeling of sympathy building up inside of her.

Father took a deep breath. "Catherine is certainly aware of this, and perhaps Meg is too, that Vincent is not exactly fond of meeting new people. As a matter of fact, you may even say he despises it."

Joe nodded. "So I've figured."

"Yes, er, well, when Vincent was a child, we always had a devil of a time getting him to meet people." Father stated. "As soon as he was old enough to realize what would happen if the wrong person knew of his existence, he has been petrified. For a time, he had been rather calmed down about it, but as of right now, it scares the living daylights out of him." Father looked from one person, to the other, and then to the other. "Had he known before that Joe was coming Below, yes, he probably would have done similar to the situation with Meg and might have gone practically crazy with it, understand? But if he doesn't know, if he is taken completely off guard, then it is a horse of a different color; he goes ballistic." Father began flipping through the book, which Catherine saw was called _All You Need to Know About Pathological Science_. "I have been thinking about this subject for quite some time, curious to know if Vincent's fear was irrational or rational, if and how it could be explained, if there was anything to calm him down or console him when he is afraid, and any way to talk him out of the fear." Father sighed. "It is almost like a mentally diseased condition, and he rarely shows it, except to me, where he voices it. Now, he will certainly be embarrassed, humiliated, and God only knows what else now that I have told you three this, but it needed to be done, especially to you, Catherine." He took a deep breath. "I an not exactly angry, but

I beg you; please, no more surprises, unless he already knows the person, of course?"

Catherine nodded. "No more surprises." She eyed Father carefully. "Are you _sure_ you aren't angry with us?"

Father sighed. "I am pretty sure that telling Joe was actually your idea Catherine, but Meg carried out the actions of telling him and bringing him Below?" the two women nodded. "So I figured." Father said. "You know the rules; talk to me about it first. Not only for the benefit of our community, but also for Vincent's sake. Please, for now on, talk to me before you tell anyone. Now all of you go. You two take Catherine back to the baby's chamber and then the two of you go visit Mouse or something. I will send Vincent along to your chamber momentarily, Catherine."

They nodded and left the chamber. Father sighed as he sat back down in his chair and massaged his temples. He'd lecture them further, in the morning, but now his eyes just needed a rest.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

Catherine lay on her bed staring up at the stone ceiling. Was what Father said true, the Vincent had a pathological fear of meeting people? It seemed very strange, but then again, he had reason to fear meeting people, right? And he obviously handled it very well; she had not noticed it in the entire time she had known him. What made him go... crazy this particular time? Well, it had been an extreme surprise for him; if he had had the slightest idea that there was someone new in the baby's chamber with her, he probably would have reacted differently. But since as it came as such a complete shock, he didn't have time to think rationally or anything; he just acted on instinct and ran. Besides, he knew she was all right; otherwise, she wouldn't have answered so calmly.

She sighed, frustrated. Well, surprise maybe wasn't the wisest approach, but if she let him know, then Vincent and Father would not have allowed Joe to find out and for Catherine's sake, Joe _needed _to know, so he can make all the necessary arrangements for unusual mounts of time off, and Moreno was certainly getting suspicious of all the cases she took where people would up with gashes the size of New Jersey, broken necks and the such – and reports of a ferocious beast occasionally. And even if Father and the rest of the council had decided to let Joe know, Vincent would have probably done the same thing he had the previous week and tormented himself, to just make disaster.

She shook her head. He seemed so out-of-character, one might say. But there was a side of him that she had never seen before, that it seemed only Father and a select amount of other people he confided in knew of.

_We have to get past the point of where Father and Vincent are in their relationship. _She thought decidedly. _Vincent feels as if he can tell Father everything, and does not worry about Father betraying his trust. That's what Vincent and I need to be doing – and more. If I can openly share my feelings with him, we should both be able to openly share are thoughts, worries, fear, happiness and such._

Suddenly she realized Vincent was standing silently in the doorway. He hadn't bothered to alert her to his appearance; he had just stood there.

"Hello Vincent." She said softly.

"Hello Catherine." He said even softer than she, barely audible.

"Come in." she offered.

He took a couple steps in and stood a bit awkwardly off to the side. Catherine sighed. "You can sit down, you know." She patted the edge of the bed.

Taking a deep breath, Vincent walked with long strides over to her bed and lightly sat down on it.

She sighed again. "Vincent, just because of this… this mishap we've had doesn't mean we have to be on such formal, quiet and awkward standards." She said. "I-I'm sorry for not warning you."

"You didn't even ask me." He said, staring down at his feet.

"Or Father, or anyone else." Catherine agreed with him. "I should have. I should have asked permission to let Joe know, I should have warned you, I should have… I'm sorry."

Vincent nodded. "And I should have told you before about… about how sudden, surprise meetings do not go so well with me. I… I thought you understood that."

Catherine nodded. "Father talked with me, and I think I understand better now."

Vincent lifted his head, looking at her in the eyes. "Father told you – everything?" he asked hesitantly.

Catherine nodded. "And being afraid of meeting people is nothing to be ashamed of. You made sure I understood that meetings did not often go pleasant, and that you preferred meeting people when you knew ahead of time, but you never said that you _feared_ surprise meetings."

Vincent's shoulders slumped and then he sighed. "It is not what you think, Catherine. It is just that, Above, when I am walking around, the fear is… different, because even then, I expect that I might come upon someone by surprise. But when I am Below, at my home, the last thing I expect is meeting someone I do not know. And you do know that whenever I meet someone for the first time it never goes…" he paused. "It never goes pleasantly. And each time I meet someone I don't know, it could lead to…" he shook his head. "To things that frighten me to think about."

"It frightens us all to think about what could go wrong every time you meet someone." Catherine reminded him gently, stroking his arm with her hand. "A-And I told you, I hadn't exactly meant to surprise you, I just didn't want you to know ahead of time." She sighed. "There's a fine line of difference in there somewhere."

Vincent nodded. "Yes, there is." He agreed. He looked at her in the yes. "And I must apologize as well. I should have fully explained the… the fear and the problem of meeting people. I just did not want-"

"You didn't want your pride damaged – boy, do I understand!" Catherine couldn't help but laugh. "Everyone has been there before, Vincent."

Vincent shook his head. "Not me, I am afraid. Until now, that is."

Catherine shook her head. "You have been – you just don't remember. Now, we're friends again?"

Vincent raised his brow, a smile playing on his face. "Only friends?" he teased.

Catherine laughed. "Well, we're on good terms again, at least, right?"

Vincent nodded. "Yes, we are." He looked around the chamber. "I suppose this will count as the intended 'goodnight' visit?"

Catherine nodded. "I suppose so." She looked up at Vincent. "Do you have to leave now?"

Vincent shrugged. "My only actual other commitment was playing chess with Father, but I think that plan might be somewhat changed now – Father suggested that you and I go find your cousin and Mr. Maxwell, and go speak with them."

"Mr. Maxwell?" Catherine's eyes twinkled. "How formal of you, Mr. Wells?"

Vincent chuckled. "Somehow 'Joe' does not seem quite appropriate for someone I have not even met."

"Maybe you could just not call him anything until you meet him?" Catherine suggested. "Just the 'hi, how are you' deal for a few minutes, until using his first name seems comfortable enough."

Vincent shrugged. "Whatever seems natural is what I suppose I will do."

"There's just one problem." Catherine stated. "How do we go and find them what with my ankle broken?"

Vincent hesitated. "Well, if you do not mind," he said finally, although very slowly. "I could carry you?"

"You could." Catherine said. "Only I probably weigh a million pounds." She shifted her weight uncomfortably.

"You look beautiful, as always." Vincent assured her. "And even if you did weigh a million pounds, I would still not mind carrying you, if that is what you wanted." His twinkled. "I might not be able to, but it is the willingness that counts."

Catherine playfully swatted him, finding the humor he had been using lately very entertaining. "Well, Vincent, I have to say if that's the case, then I don't mind; will you please escort me to…, well, wherever Joe and Meg are?"

Vincent nodded, carefully and gently picking the woman. She was a bit heavier than she was when he carried her for the first time, a bit over two years ago, but she was still like a china doll, very small, fragile, and light. Every time he touched her he was reminded of why 'it couldn't be', at least to the extent of having children. Even if he stroked her hair too hard, he would kill her. If he put any weight on her, he would crush her. And if he put his mouth anywhere on her body, he would unwillingly pierce a hole in her skin with his sharp fangs.

"A penny for your thoughts?" Catherine asked, leaning her head against his strong shoulder as they walked down the long dimly lit corridor.

He sighed. Now would not be the ideal time to share those particular thoughts. "I was just thinking." He said.

"That's what thoughts are!" Catherine laughed. "What were you thinking about?"

"How beautiful you are." He said very quietly in her ear, so only she could here. It was hard enough to tell her that, much less say it loud enough for the whole community to hear. Not as if it really mattered, they knew his feelings for her already, or at least to some extent.

She laughed. "And I could say what I was thinking too." She said. "But if I said it now, your face would be redder than holly berries at Christmas, and it would be even worse if someone heard!"

Just at her saying that, his face turned pink. What was she thinking? Certainly nothing… dirty or inappropriate? But then again, he hardly knew what was considered 'appropriate' or 'inappropriate' any longer.

"But in case your wondering," she continued to laugh. "I was thinking about your height – and especially your strength. You're as hard a rock – what have you been doing, bench-pressing 500 pound weights?"

At those comments, he turned an even deeper shade of pink, nearing a red color, which only made her laugh harder. "Well, have you?" she laughed.

"No." he muttered. He knew she was only joking – any muscles he had were from the long hours of work he put in daily and of course, the strength he was born with; that wonderful, and horrid, amazing strength of his that he wondered whether it was a gift or a curse.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"I don't know where he is." Meg said with a shrug, turning away from Mouse's empty chamber. "Catherine mentioned that he likes to go into New York City, or as he called it 'up top', to 'take' things."

"You mean steal things?" Joe's thick eyebrows furrowed.

"More or less." Meg laughed. "He doesn't understand that it's wrong; he says that that's what Above is there for."

Joe shook his head. "So this… so this Mouse is mentally, er, retarded?"

Meg shook her head. "No, I don't think so. I think he doesn't waste his words and he doesn't have a lot of social skills or common sense, but no, I don't think he's retarded."

Joe nodded thoughtfully. "What kind of things has he stolen?"

"Oh, I don't know!" Meg threw her hands up in the air. "I've only been here since Sunday, only been Below since Saturday, and only met Vincent on Sunday! And seeing is how it's only Thursday night, I would hardly know what he had stolen!"

"Just curious." Joe said with a shrug. "I am with the law, you know."

"And you swore you wouldn't tell about Below." Meg reminded him. "And there's no way that you can expose Mouse without exposing Below."

"Your right." Joe admitted. He rubbed his temples, shaking his head. "God, this is a strange dream."

"It's no dream, Joe." Meg laughed. "It's for real and you'd better get used to it."

Suddenly Vincent, holding Catherine stepped in front of them. "We're back!" Catherine laughed merrily.

Joe's jaw dropped open. Before, when he had seen Vincent, it had only been for a split second. But now, the man was standing two feet away from him!

The man was huge! He has at least six feet tall, but undoubtedly more, maybe even six feet five inches! And while he wasn't fat by any means, he was huge. His shoulders were so broad and he looked so… so strong, as if he could crush Joe or Catherine without any effort at all. _And, oh my God, he's holding her! _Joe thought worriedly.

Vincent cleared his throat and while still supporting Catherine, her arms around his neck, he held her with one arm cradled and extended the other. "I am afraid we haven't had the chance to properly meet." Vincent said, holding out a furred hand. "I am Vincent."

Joe couldn't help but just stare at the offered hand. It was huge, one of the biggest hands to ever be had, surely! It was so long and wide and… enormous! And it was covered with fur? Not just hairs here and there, but actual fur, like short fur like you might see on a dog. And at the end of his fingers were claws, deadly looking, sharp, dangerous claws!

Joe's attention snapped from the horrible hands up to the horrible face. Covering the man's head and some of his face was a gigantic mound of hair, kind of red-blonde colored. And just by looking at it, he could tell it wasn't normal textured, or growing out normal. It was… it was a mane! _The man has an actual mane! _Joe couldn't believe what he was seeing. _He's got a mane, like a lions! And it grows out of his head, naturally? It can't be!_

And then man's face was also… frightening, to say the least. His mouth curved at the upper lip, to his nose, just the way a cat's did – or a lion's did. And his nose was so flat looking, and his cheeks were so much broader than most people's! Joe could only gap in silence at the creature-beast that stood before him – holding delicate Catherine.

Calmly, obviously understanding, Vincent withdrew his hand and tucked it back around Catherine, positioning her more comfortably. "I, er, have heard much about you." Vincent said solemnly, stuttering slightly in a way which reminded him of Father, the way Father stuttered or coughed when situations often got awkward. "You seem like a very kind, generous and educated man – I trust that we will have many interesting conversations in the future?"

Joe could only nod, his mouth still hanging wide open. _T-T-This beast can talk! _Was all that Joe could think. _He speaks, he moves, he… he isn't a myth!_

Meg leaned over to Joe. "Shut your mouth before a fly gets in." she whispered to him.

Joe suddenly realized as he shut his mouth that, beast or no beast, he was acting like a total loser; an uncultured, ill-mannered jerk. "I-It's nice to meet you." Joe tried to reply to Vincent. "I-I'm afraid t-that Cathy hasn't told me much about you at all."

Vincent nodded. "I had that assumed already. My life is not to be spoken much of, unless amongst those who already know of my existence."

Joe could only nod. But he had to say something! So he said the first thing that came to his mind; "You talk funny." He croaked. Well, it was rude, but better than nothing.

Vincent chuckled a bit. "Not 'funny', but different than many people, I suppose." He stood off to the side of the narrow corridor. "Would you care to go into my chamber or to the baby's chamber, where Catherine beds down? I believe she would be more comfortable there, and it is more of a comfortable place to converse, as well."

Joe finally seemed to grasp hold of the situation. Whether it seemed believable or not, here he was stuck with a situation that he needed to do something about. "Yes, I would like to talk." Joe said firmly. "Is there an ideal place that we could talk – alone?" he emphasized the word 'alone', making it clear that he did not want Catherine or Meg, or heck, anyone else around to hear their soon-to-be-had conversation.

Vincent looked down into his arms where Catherine laid quietly, not wanting to disrupt his and Joe's conversation. Finally, he spoke. "I cannot keep any secrets from Catherine; anything you must tell me is fit for her ears also, isn't it?"

Catherine's heart soared at his words. Just because she hadn't been talking did not mean that she had not been listening! He couldn't keep any secrets from her? Terrific; he was really serious about furthering their relationship. She was so happy she could shriek, but she didn't; she waited for Joe's reply instead.

"I don't mind if you relay the conversation later, I guess." Joe asked, a bit uncertain to where this conversation was going. It seemed that he was quickly losing control over the situation. "But I would like to speak to you – just me and you."

Vincent nodded his consent. "If Meg does not mind keeping Catherine company in the baby's chamber while we're gone?"

"Of course not." Meg said softly.

Vincent nodded. "Catherine?"

She yawned. "I'm getting too tired for conversation anyways." She snuggled up against the man. "Just be sure to come say goodnight before I go to sleep, 'kay?"

Vincent nodded, managing to control the color of his face. "Let us go then." And he led the way down the corridor towards his chamber, where the baby's chamber sat right next to it. He led the way, Catherine in his arms, Meg following, with Joe taking up the rear. All the while Joe was looking around and especially at the people – and creature – walking in front of him. It was unbelievable. Simply unbelievable. And now, Joe wasn't so sure it was a dream or too much champagne.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

Finally the reached the entryways for the baby's chamber and Vincent's chamber. "You can go ahead and go into my chamber." Vincent directed Joe, motioning to the curtained doorway. "I shall be along in a moment."

Joe nodded slowly and waited for Vincent to go into the baby's chamber with Catherine and Meg. He wanted to make sure that… that thing or person who whoever or whatever it was wasn't alone with Catherine more than absolutely necessary.

Joe took a deep breath and stepped through the curtain that Vincent had instructed him to, that supposedly led to Vincent's room, or chamber, as he had called it.

Joe looked around the room? This was the creature's room, or Vincent's chamber? whichever one was correct, Joe didn't know. There was a large bed on the left hand corner, and a small table with a very sturdy looking chair beside the bed. There was a nightstand that looked very old, with a big thick red candle on it, burning, a pinkish color wax dripping down the candle. There was a big rug on the floor that was very bright and colorful. Upon closer look, Joe could see that it was a larger version of those rag rugs his grandmother used to make. Over to his right, of course, was an old jukebox. It obviously wasn't turned on, plugged in, and didn't look like it was used very often, if used at all. There was a big yellow stained glass window over the bed, and Joe could only guess that whatever as behind the stained glass window certainly wasn't above ground. Next to the stained glass window, sitting on its windowsill were mini statues and figurines, one of which included a stuffed horse that was red and yellow. The horse looked well-worn, to say the least.

And the room smelled like candles, all of different scents and such. Most of the candles looked homemade, like they weren't store-bought, and that could only make sense that they made candles instead of buying them; buying hundreds of candles would add up to be a very expensive lighting system.

Joe was so interested in his surrounding that he forgot where he was or what he was doing. He looked over to his right to see a small trunk popped open. Curiously, Joe went over to it and peered inside.

Inside were a lot of things that a child would love to have, at least years ago. There was a stick-horse; straddled upon one, a child could romp and play for hours. A music box shaped as a carousel; it looked so antique and valuable that Joe didn't dare touch it. There was a book, filled with magical looking pictures of unicorns, horse and such; the book had to be at least fifty years old, and though its pages were well worn, it seemed to be in mint condition besides that. And there was a set of ten small porcelain horses, some chipped and battered, but well loved looking just the same.

"Those were my treasures as a child." A soft voice said behind him.

Joe spun around, nearly dropping the glass figurines in the process. "I'm sorry!" he exclaimed, holding up his hands to protect his face, automatically. "I was just looking! I-I didn't mess up a thing, I swear!"

A chuckle escaped from Vincent's throat. After speaking with Father and Catherine a bit, he had to agree; meeting people could also be fun - often they were so naive and afraid that it was hilariously funny, especially when there was utterly nothing to be worried about.

Vincent took long strides over to the trunk Joe was at and picked up the music-box, turning it over gently in his furred hands. "These were my favorite possessions when I was a boy." Vincent commented, fondly remembering his childhood. "I used to sit and play with these all hours of the day – and some moments in the night, when Father did not catch me." He sighed, putting the music-box carousel back where it belonged. "But somehow he always knew when I was awake or not – I suppose that is a father's job."

"You liked horses?" Joe found himself saying, the words coming out slightly squeaky.

Vincent nodded. "Always. They seemed so magical, like a magic carpet. All you would have to do is sit upon one and it would take you where you pleased. And they are beautiful, with such natural grace, every single one of them. And so proud, their heads held up high… I thought they were the finest creatures that God could have ever created." He looked at Joe. "I still do, actually."

Joe nodded, slowly. "My Dad was a police officer; sometimes he would ride through Central Park on a horse."

"I have all too clear memories of that." Vincent admitted. "Once when I was a child, some of the children and I was playing outside in Central Park. It was late, certainly after midnight, and a constable comes by on a horse and tries to stop us, to capture us. Luckily for us, we were close to the entrance to Below, and we escaped without him seeing any one of us too clearly." He sighed. "My heart was pounding the entire time. If he had caught any one of us…" Vincent shook his head, only being able to imagine what would happen. "Father would have had a heart-attack if he knew about that side of the story, even though it was nearly thirty years ago."

Joe suddenly remembered who he was talking to. His neck snapped up straight and he turned around quickly to face Vincent. "We need to talk." Joe said in his most commanding, businesslike tone on voice, although the sight of Vincent made him want to crumble to his knees, he was so frightening.

Vincent motioned to the very sturdy looking chair beside the table, indicating that Joe sit down. "Please, sit." He offered.

Tentatively, Joe took a seat in the chair. The chair was a bit hard and large for him, but he supposed it had been made to accommodate Vincent. He looked over at Vincent quickly; Vincent had taken a seat on the edge of his bed, looking at Joe expectantly.

Joe cleared his throat. "You are in a relationship with Catherine?" he attempted to remain sounding strong, firm and in control, but it came out more of a squeak – Joe hated it when that happened.

Vincent nodded. "Yes."

Joe took a deep breath. "And she's pregnant?"

"Yes." Vincent's replied.

So he was only going to give the sparse details, not say anything extra. "And the baby is yours?" Joe demanded. "Don't you know what could happen to Catherine if-"

"We have already discussed every possibility of this baby, Mr. Maxwell." Vincent said, looking into Joe's dark brown eyes. "I think we have every aspect of this pregnancy covered."

"But the baby." Joe gasped. "If it has your genetics then-"

"We do not know what will happen." Vincent said. "Even if we knew about my birth and my genetics, there would still be no way to change what is going to happen. We are taking it in strides, but I am sure I can speak for myself, Catherine, Father, and everyone else involved, that we appreciate your concern."

"But if they baby is an animal-"Joe managed to say.

"We do not know what I am." Vincent said. "But our baby will be loved nonetheless."

"Would you stop interrupting me?" Joe banged his fist on the table. "I'm trying to say something!"

"I apologize." Vincent said sincerely. "Please, continue."

Joe took a deep breath. "How can you guarantee what is going to happen to the baby, to Catherine? Don't you know what risk Cathy is in, having your child? Out of all the men she could have made out with, she had to make out with, with _you_? Is she crazy? What has gotten into her? That baby will kill her, and if not the baby, you probably will just by touching her!"

Vincent waited patiently through Joe's confused ranting. "Are you finished?" he asked Joe calmly.

Joe nodded slowly. "I guess so."

"We cannot guarantee what will happen to the baby, or to Catherine." Vincent stood up, clasped his hands behind his back and began pacing back and forth. "It worries me, yes, but Catherine has asked me not to express it; she does not like people to worry about what cannot be fixed." He stopped pacing and looked at Joe squarely in the eyes. "But I am very confident that the baby will not _kill_ her, and I could never hurt Catherine, ever. I would never do such a thing."

"So we're to sit back and not worry?" Joe asked, frazzled as Vincent began pacing again. "You're… your huge! The baby will probably be gigantic… she will die!"

"Not necessarily, as I was a very small baby." Vincent said. "I was starving when I was found as an infant, but I could have only been hours old; our baby may be the size of any normal baby."

"But what about claws and fangs and fur?" Joe asked, watching Vincent as he paced.

"We cannot do anything about it." Vincent said. "If I could, I would turn it around this very instant, but I cannot. I can do nothing but wait and prepare for the worst and hope for the best, as everyone else is doing."

"Ever been to a zoo?" Joe asked suddenly.

Vincent stopped suddenly, staring at Joe strangely. "Cannot say that I have." He said finally. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, lions have a habit of pacing." Joe explained. "Back and forth, back and forth. No one knows why they do that or anything, and I figured that since you look kind of…" Joe looked embarrassed.

Vincent chuckled. "Interesting thought there, but I can assure you, that I have not one idea why lions paced – I was not even aware that they did that." He continued pacing. "It is a nervous habit of mine. It helps me think, calm down and-"he was going to say 'not strike anything', but he decided to leave that part out.

Joe was quiet for a minute, watching Vincent pace back and forth. He seemed to have common sense, it seemed, and a reasonable outlook on this, despite his crazy fears and even crazier appearance. He also seemed to be very fond of Catherine. Finally, Joe spoke. "Um, Vincent?" Vincent stopped pacing to look at Joe. "As your probably aware, Cathy's Dad died recently-"

Vincent nodded. "I recall when it happened."

"Yeah, well, ever since then I've kind of felt like it was my duty to, well, I dunno, watch out for her, I guess." Joe said. "Keep her safe, out of dangerous relationships and whatnot." He shrugged. "Call me crazy, obsessed or protective but-"

"You are only being a good friend." Vincent encouraged. "Go on."

Joe hesitated. "You really like her, don't you?"

Vincent sighed, wondering how he would explain his feelings to this man he hardly knew, this man who was still in the phase of viewing him as a creature and not a man. "Yes, I do." Vincent admitted finally. "I… she holds my heart, and has for the past two years. She…" he shook his head. "I would do anything for her."

Joe looked at Vincent, not quite convinced. It sounded just like some guy who had spent too much time reading Shakespeare for his own good. "Anything?" Joe asked, suspiciously. "Even die for her?"

"If it came to that, yes, I would." Vincent said calmly as ever, looking at Joe honestly in the eyes.

"Meet new people upon surprise everyday?" Joe tried.

Vincent chuckled, finding it funny that Joe would use that as an obstacle. "Hundreds of new people." Vincent promised, which was true as well.

Joe remembered what Meg said about him being locked up in a cage, perhaps in a zoo or science lab, if he were ever discovered. "Spend the rest of your life in a cage? At a science lab or in a zoo?"

Vincent nodded without a moment's hesitation. "If it was good for her, if it was what she wanted, if it would help me gain her love and respect, I would do it in an instant."

Joe studied Vincent carefully. Finally, he sighed. "Well, I'm not convinced." He warned the much taller and stronger man. "We're still not done talking, understand? I'm going to have to be sure when and _if_ I give you the

A-Okay, understand?"

Vincent nodded, not knowing what Joe's approval could make in their relationship, but he certainly didn't want to risk anything. "All I ask is that you are fair, just and judge with an open mind." Vincent said.

Joe nodded. Taking a deep breath, he held out his hand. "Deal." He said, holding his breath.

Vincent saw the man reach out his hand, obviously for him to shake. Cautiously, Vincent reached out his hand, which was much larger than Joe's, and clasped it, shaking it gently, not wanting to hurt him or anything – now _that_ would be bad. "It is a deal." Vincent said.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

Joe and Vincent stepped into the baby's chamber together. Meg was sitting crossed-legged on the bed, talking to Catherine, but leapt up once they came in.

"Well?" she pressed. "How'd it go?"

"We seem to have a... understanding." Vincent replied, looking at Joe.

Joe nodded. "Um, I promise to keep your secret, Radcliffe."

Catherine smiled up at him. "And that is all I ask. You're a good friend, Joe."

"Yes, well," The situation was making Joe feeling a bit awkward. "It's, uh, late, and I have things to do tomorrow, and, er-"

"I'll show you the way out." Meg said promisingly, taking pity on the man. She knew how overwhelming it felt to suddenly discover all of this.

"Goodnight Catherine, and, um, Vincent." Joe said, walking out of the camber with Meg.

"Goodnight, Joe." Catherine and Vincent said in unison. Once Joe and Meg left, Catherine smiled up at Vincent. "Now that wasn't so bad, was it?"

"No, it wasn't." Vincent admitted, sitting down on the edge of her bed.

"So, what happened?" Catherine asked him, pressing him for information.

Vincent thought a moment before he spoke. "It seems he wants to approve of your choice in men." he said slowly. "Since your father is not here to give the 'yes' or 'no', somehow he feels responsible-"

"I imagined Peter feeling that way, but I suppose Joe is the type to also feel responsible." Catherine shrugged her shoulders. "Well, does he approve?"

"I am not sure." Vincent told her. "He seemed very hesitant and nervous."

"Well, we'll just have to give him time." Catherine said decidedly. "He will come around." she looked over at him. "Do you have a book with you?"

He nodded, pulling a book out of his cloak. It was _Much Ado About Nothing_.

"Will you read it to me?" she asked him.

He nodded, resuming his earlier position of leaning against her headboard, feet dangling off the bed. She them laid her head on his stomach, waiting for him to begin reading.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

_Where is he_? Father wondered, poking his head into his son's chamber. It was now hours later, approaching three in the morning. Father had just woken up to find Arthur scrounging around his chamber, so after Father finally had gotten rid of him, he decided to check on his son, just in case, just so see how he was doing.

But when he poked his head into Vincent's chamber, expecting to find it completely darkened with his son curled up in bed, sleeping quietly, as he normally was when Father went to check on him, he was not there.

_I hope he did not go Above_, Father thought grimly as he left Vincent's chamber, letting go of the curtain that served as a door, letting the curtain fall back into place again. _The last thing I need is to find a way to bail him out again._

Father hesitated. _Perhaps I should check on Catherine,_ he thought. _Just to make sure she is sleeping soundly._

_You fool; _he scolded himself as he walked down the corridor the next couple feet to poke his head in her chamber. _She is perfectly capable of going to sleep; you needn't check on her._

Just the same, Father opened the curtain just a bit, peeking inside. To his surprise, like Vincent's chamber, the entire chamber was still it by candles, though the candles were low.

Father turned his attention to the bed and there found the answer to his question about Vincent; there, half-sitting, half-lying on the bed as his son. He was leaning against the headboard, his long legs stretched over the bed, his feet dangling off of it. And Father was certain that a faint rumbling sound was coming from Vincent's throat. He was also certain that Vincent was asleep, although Vincent was still holding a book in his hands. Catherine was asleep also, lying against Vincent's stomach. It looked as if she had fallen asleep to his reading, and he had eventually dozed off himself.

Father hesitated. Should he go waken Vincent? After all, it was hardly appropriate for them to be sleeping together, which essentially, they were.

Shaking his head, Father turned and left the chamber, leaving Vincent and Catherine sound asleep. He couldn't waken them during that special time they shared together. He just couldn't. It would be wrong, unjust and unfair towards Vincent. As indecent as their sleeping in the same bed may have been, it was also done innocently, and was certainly being treasured, although asleep. He just couldn't do that to them.

_Your a fool, Jacob_. He scolded himself as he went back into his own chamber. _A fool for love._


	25. Chapter 25

25

**Authors note: OK, you don't have to tell me, this is pure evil; not updating for three months and then posting a relatively short chapter (compared to the rest). Positively evil. But what can I say? Me and haven't been on the best of terms lately and writers block totally sucks. So anyways, written in a single morning, this chapter is a bit shorter than most of them, and written during a time where the well was going dry, so to speak. So the writer-fairy paid me a visit. Funny, as much as I love fairies, I hate it when the writer's fairy has to come around… read more about him in my profile!**

**Chapter Twenty-Five:**

"I don't know what I'm going to tell him." Meg shook her head. "Oh, Catherine – I'll miss you so much!"

"I'm going to miss you an awful lot too." Catherine said, giving her cousin another hug. "But are we still on for Halloween? I've already talked with Vincent about it, and he seemed to like the idea. Father has no objections, seeing is how it must be done." She giggled. "So long as there are no more surprises."

Meg laughed. It was Sunday, September the 3rd, and they were at the airport, getting ready for Meg's flight back to Indiana, which left in forty-five minutes.

Joe had finally come around. Just the previous day he told Catherine and Meg that he supposed Vincent was all right, and he'd do his best to cover Catherine from the wrath of Moreno – he promised.

"I had so much fun." Meg told her cousin. "Thanks so much!"

"For what?" Catherine asked, leaning on a crutch. "You're the one who helped me!"

Meg shook her head. "Without you, I would have never known about Below, or about how great it is."

"Well, your welcome." Catherine said. "But thanks for talking to Joe for me. And thanks for promising to come back when the baby is due. And if you can, do you think you'll be able to make it for Winterfest? Maybe-"

"We'll see." Meg told Catherine. "We'll just have to see. Now will you be okay getting back to your apartment or Below or wherever you're headed? Those crutches don't give you too much trouble, do they?"

Catherine shook her head, signifying no, that the crutches didn't give her too much trouble. After Catherine begged and pleaded, Father finally agreed that she could walk using crutches, so long as she still got plenty of rest, didn't put too much strain on her ankle, and all of that stuff. Peter had kindly provided a pair of crutches and taught Catherine how to use them, which she was slowly getting the hang of.

"Well," Meg said somewhat sorrowfully. "I guess this is goodbye."

"No, it isn't!" Catherine insisted. "Your plane doesn't take off fort over half an hour!"

"The longer we stand her and loiter, the more we're going to cry, hug, and then I'll never leave." Meg said realistically.

Catherine sighed. "Bye." she said softly, giving her slightly older cousin a hug. "Call me tonight, once you get home."

Meg nodded. "Okay, but we'll only talk for a moment. I'm going to want to speak with Mike tonight, to catch up on all the going-ons and such. Tomorrow night we can actually talk, especially since I'll have more to say."

Catherine nodded. "Talk to you later. I love you."

"You too." Meg said, giving her cousin another hug. She turned and started walking away. "I'll see you in less than two months, 'kay? Take care!"

"You too." Catherine said, waving until Meg was out of sight. She sighed as she turned away, heading out of the huge airport. She had to get Below pretty soon anyway; she had promised someone something.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"I don't know." Catherine said with a smile. "'Sarah' just seems like an ordinary name."

"It is!" Maria pointed out. "That's why I like it so much." She flipped through the book she held in her hands. "Or how about 'Jessica'?"

Catherine tried not to make a face. "Still too common. I'm thinking something a little bit more… unusual." She tried to find the words. "And besides, I think the baby is a boy."

"How do you know?" Maria looked curious.

"Well," Catherine grasped for the words. "I don't know. They call it a woman's intuition."

"Do I have intuit… what you just said?" Maria asked.

Catherine chuckled. "Maybe."

"I don't see why I shouldn't." Maria pouted a bit. "I'm a woman; I'm a little woman, but I'm a woman."

"Good point, Maria." Catherine tried to hide her smile at the girl's cuteness as she flipped through a baby name book.

It was later that afternoon, and she had promised Maria that she had needed her help with something very important. The important thing was the baby'[s name. Vincent still seemed to think that he wasn't capable of thinking of a name, and that Catherine should, and she figured involving Maria would make her feel pretty special.

"How about 'John'?" Maria asked, flipping over to the boy's section of the baby name book that she held in her hands.

"Bad idea." Catherine grimaced. "That's Paracelsus' real name."

Maria shuddered. "Well, then, how about 'Luke'?" she asked. She was very fond of Kanin and Olivia's baby.

Catherine shook her head. "Wouldn't two Luke's get confusing?"

Maria nodded. "Well, how about Henry?" she suggested. "Or 'George' – it says here that it means 'farmer'."

Catherine didn't know why Maria felt the need to point out the meaning of the name 'George', since the word 'farmer' held absolutely no significance to Catherine or Vincent, but she didn't say anything about that. "I think you're on the right trail, Maria." She told the young girl.

"I am?" Maria asked, happy to be pleasing Catherine.

Catherine nodded. "Yes; let's try to find a name that means something important to us."

"How about the name 'Jack'?" Maria asked. Then her face fell as she read the description name. "Ugh, it's a form of 'John'."

"Well, what's it mean?" Catherine asked Maria, rather liking the name Jack herself.

"'God is gracious, merciful'." Maria read out loud

Vincent stepped into the baby's chamber to hear the last part of the conversation. "Perhaps we will name is Jack, then, if things go like they should." He commented. Catherine knew he meant if the baby looked normal, then the name meaning 'God is gracious and merciful' would be perfect.

"Look, Vincent." Maria held up the book she was holding. "Catherine and I are picking out names for your baby."

"I see that." Vincent said, amused. He looked at Maria. "Do I get any say in this?"

"No." she said. "It's woman's work."

Vincent tried not to chuckle. "Then what is my job?"

Maria thought it over before answering. "Not dirtying up clean floors." She said at last.

Catherine and Vincent both laughed at that. "Good one, Maria." Catherine laughed.

"Well, then." Vincent said. "Seeing is how my presence here is not appreciated, then perhaps I will go, not telling either of you what Mary mentioned."

"What'd she say?" Catherine asked, curiosity aroused.

"Tell us!" Maria said.

Vincent gave them a small smile. "I don't think so – Catherine needs her rest."

"Come on, Vincent." Catherine said with a smile, setting the baby name books aside and swinging her legs off of the bed. "What did she say?"

"Well, Mary has a lot of old baby things that were used for various children over the years." He paused. "Various children who, um, did not have parents, who of course, would go ahead and buy what was needed?"

Catherine and Maria nodded together. Such children, Vincent being a classic example, arrived with nothing but sickness and a want for love.

"Well, she said that you might be interested in going through them." He said. "Seeing is how you haven't anything for the baby."

Maria leapt to her feet. "Come on, Catherine!" she said excitedly.

Catherine nodded, reaching for her crutches. "Hold on, Maria. The baby stuff isn't going anywhere." She looked over at Vincent. "Thanks for telling us."

He nodded. "Your welcome. She is in the nursery, waiting for you."

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"This is rather neutral." Mary held up a white one-piece. It was stained and wrinkled, but still very clean. "Since you aren't finding out whether the baby is a boy or a girl, you might want to stay with whites and other neutral colors."

"So long as we stay away from pinks, we should be okay." Catherine said. "And besides, wearing blue never harmed a girl, and I don't think pink will harm a boy."

"What happened to this bottle?" Maria asked in disgust, holding up a baby bottle. The bottle was all scratched up and the lid had teeth marks covering it. There was no nipple in the bottle.

Mary sighed. "That was Vincent's. Once he got teeth, he pretty much ruined every bottle he had. We had to use a new nipple each time. I threw all of the bottles and nipples away, except for that on, just because..." she sighed.

"Memories." Catherine said. She took the bottle from Maria. "I wonder if it's still usable."

"You will not be using it, will you?" Mary asked, surprised. "I thought you would be breastfeeding the baby."

Catherine sighed, putting the gnawed up, old-fashioned baby bottle in the 'keep' pile. "I wanted to, but with my being gone at work all day, that would make it kind of hard. And besides," she gave another sigh. "Vincent is afraid that, if the baby is like him, once the baby gets teeth..."

Mary grimaced. "Ouch."

Catherine nodded. "That's what he said."

Maria seemed to not be paying attention to their conversation. She held up an old-fashioned pacifier, all gnawed and chewed up. "This was Vincent's too?"

Mary shook her head. "No, Vincent never used a pacifier - he sucked and teethed on everything he wasn't supposed to." she laughed. reaching for the pacifier and turning it over in her hands. "I don't know where this came from."

Catherine held up a baby blanket, a bit torn in some places. "With a bit of patching this would be as good as new." she said. "No need to go buying a bunch of expensive looking blankets when this'll do fine, don't you think?"

Mary nodded. "Now that is Vincent's, as well." she said. "It was Devin's actually, and on-hand when Vincent first came to us. It is what we immediately wrapped him in."

Catherine smiled, looking over the blanket, trying to imagine Vincent as a baby, wrapped in it. "Well, we're definitely keeping, or even using it, then."

Maria held up a blanket that might have been white once, but it was so stained with dirt, grease and only God knew what else that it was a dark gray. "We need to throw this away." she said, holding the blanket by her fingertips.

"It's so thin anyways." Catherine said. "And torn and tattered in so many places... it can't be used."

"But that was the blanket Vincent was found in." Mary told Catherine.

Catherine was dumbfounded, staring at the blanket Maria held between her fingertips. "That? But it's so dirty and ugly and thin and tattered and-"

"And he was found starving, naked and nearly frostbitten in a dumpster." Mary reminded Catherine, taking the blanket that had been scrubbed clean, but still smelled a bit and was dirty as ever. "Why whoever put him there thought this blanket would do him any good is beyond me."

Catherine's eyes filled with tears as she took the blanket from Mary,. turning it over in her hands, imagining her Vincent nearly starved and frozen to death. How could anyone be so cruel, so uncaring? To throw a helpless, defenseless baby in a dumpster could only be one of the top ten sins, Catherine was sure. It was almost murder.

"I can see why you kept it." Catherine finally said softly. "Does Father know you have this stuff?"

Mary shrugged. "I do not know whether he knows or not, and quite frankly, I do not care. I may not have been the one to adopt Vincent as my son, but I care for him deeply just the same." she gently took the thin sheet of a blanket from Catherine and put it in Catherine's 'keep' pile. "You keep it. Someday, on a cold and rainy night, when all of the children are grown and gone, you and Vincent are sitting around a hot fireplace, drinking hot cocoa, pull his old stuff out and show him, and reminisce. It'll do you good."

Catherine smiled at Mary's obvious dream for her and Vincent. Well, seeing is how there weren't any fireplaces Below, that would mean she would have to get Vincent over her threshold once again. Well, there was always hope for some things.

Maria was obviously more interested in digging through the old stuff than listening to their conversion, as most children are. "You think this'll fit?" she held up a baby's outfit, from at least the 60's.

"If it doesn't crumble first." Catherine laughed, taking the outfit from Maria. It seemed to be in relatively good condition, and is nothing else worked, it could be used for patches. She put it in her 'keep' pile. "Thank you, Maria."

Catherine turned to Mary, who was busy sorting out old clothes. "Tell me more about when Vincent first came." She said. "What do you remember?"

Mary paused before beginning her story. "Well, it was January 12th, as you know. It was early in the morning… it could have only been five-thirty. I remember that I was fast asleep in my bed when Jacob, or Father, comes running into my room. He shook me awake and told me Anna had brought in a dying baby. I had jumped out of bed, wrapped my brown dressing gown around myself and ran into Father's chamber, which is where Anna had brought the baby." Mary looked thoughtful. "Come to think of it, Anna was always a mysterious woman. I don't think she trusted John much at all. But then again, he was a scientist and Jacob a doctor. I trust doctors more than scientists too." She continued on with the story. "So anyways, John and Jacob were surrounding a little bundle once I finally got into Jacob's chamber. They were whispering and talking. I went over at the table and, well," she blushed a bit. "I shrieked."

"I would have too." Catherine assured her. "You were expecting a somewhat normal looking baby."

Mary nodded. "Lying on the table was a baby, only this long." Mary held her hands up, only ten inches away from each other, to show how long the baby was. "The baby was covered in this, well, fuzz, like you would see on a baby chick. It was a light golden color." She recalled. "But under the fuzz, there was blue and white."

"Blue and white?" Catherine was confused.

Mary nodded. "Like I said, it was nearly frozen. And when I looked up at his face," she continued. "I saw what one might call the ugliest face ever, and I felt so sorry for the poor thing. Its nose was flat, its cheeks so broad, its upper lip split, and a small mane hanging in its face."

"So he had a mane when you first got him?" Catherine asked.

Mary nodded. "His eyes were closed, his breathing very shallow. Jacob quickly instructed John and me to go get various things needed, like hot water, a warm compress, thick blankets, warm milk, et cetera. Then I was told to go find Anna, but she was gone." Mary shuddered. "We found out a few weeks later that she died in her sleep, in her apartment. We never did find out all of the details."

"What happened next?" Catherine asked, sorting through used cloth diapers.

"Well, we took turns holding him, around the clock." Mary said. "He was so cold, all the time, and Father didn't feel like mere blankets kept him warm enough, that he needed body heat. He had come down with the croup, flu and other illnesses the rest of his first year, which meant we had to be nearby anyways, in case of a coughing fit, sneezing fit, or to help him cough or sneeze, for he often didn't have the strength." She smiled at the memories of holding him as a small baby. "I remember feeding him, all hours of the day and night. He didn't seem to understand at first, what to do with the bottle, but he learned to suck soon enough!" she laughed. "We'd often overfill that little tummy of his until he spat it back up, but then he'd always want more!"

Catherine laughed. "So he quickly became nourished, I see."

"Well, he was never a chubby baby." Mary said. "Most babies get really chubby very fast, but not Vincent. He just grew lengthways, and enough in the width to barely accommodate the height, and that was it. That's the way he is built."

"Did he grow fast?" Catherine asked next.

Mary shook her head. "Not for his first couple years. He was actually very small and week until he became a bit older. I cannot say that he started growing strong and broad until his fifteenth birthday." She sighed. "He's really grown up."

"Well, if you want, you can help us with his child." Catherine offered. "We'll need all of the help we can get."

"Gladly." Mary said. "If the child is anything like its daddy, then you two will be up at all hours of the night with it."

Catherine sighed wearily. "Oh dear."

"You're not going to mind it so much." Mary assured her. "You'll consider it special quality time with your baby, I promise."

Catherine nodded. "So how did you figure out that he was… well, I mean, did you know he was…" she tried to think of a tactful way to say it.

"Human?" Mary asked. She shook her head. "I cannot say that I remember that part all too clearly." She admitted. "I suppose Father knew from the beginning." She said. "I'm not sure how, but I think he just _knew_. And I think I first became sure that he was when he opened his eyes one morning." She chuckled. "It was about six in the morning, everyone else Below asleep, and he just opened his beautiful, sapphire eyes. He's been an early-bird since then." She laughed. "And John?" she shook her head. "God only know what obscene, hateful things John was thinking."

"So was Vincent a good kid?" Catherine asked.

"Yes, Vincent was a wonderfully behaved child." Mary said. "Has never done a thing wrong, in my opinion. Always content, quiet and obedient, striving to please everyone he met. Very sensitive, warm and open… sometimes I would lie awake at night, wondering if he was an angel, or a special gift from heaven."

"Did the other children accept him?" Catherine asked. "How did he get along with the other children?"

"Well, for a time, just fine." Mary said. "For years, Vincent and the rest of the children talked, laughed, and played just like normal children. No one seemed to even notice Vincent was different, and if they noticed, well, they certainly didn't care."

"'For a time'?" Catherine asked. "Are you saying it didn't stay that way?"

Mary sighed. "Well, it seemed once they were getting older, Vincent maybe eleven or twelve, things started to go wrong. Little things. I suppose the children were starting to get interested in playing Above, and noting Vincent's differences. It was at an age where it was expected, of course, but I am afraid that none of us adults really noticed until Devin left."

"What happened then?" Catherine wanted to know.

"Well," Mary said thoughtfully. "I suppose Devin kept the little band of children, mainly boys, together. Kept and held them together like glue. If anyone was to stand up for Vincent, is would be Devin, that is, until Devin got a little older. The older Devin got, the harder Father was on him." Mary sighed. "I knew he was too hard on Devin, but I didn't say anything; perhaps I should have. Things could be very different now."

"Father was so hard on him why?" Catherine asked.

"Well, because he knew that Devin was his actual son, and of course, Devin does have that mischievous nature." Mary said. "And the fact that he was so soft on Vincent didn't help the situation either."

"Why was he so soft on Vincent?" Catherine wondered out loud.

"Well, I'm sure he felt sorry for him, for one thing." Mary said. "And for another, he didn't _need_ to be hard on Vincent; all he'd have to say is 'I'm very disappointed in you, son' or something of the like and the child would burst out in inconsolable tears. If you said that to Devin, he would scoff and give you a one-liner, and if you were lucky, a new nickname."

Catherine couldn't help but laugh a little. "That's what I say about Joe. You should have seen those two together at the DA's office; if Devin would have stayed, it would have been hell."

Mary laughed. "Yes, well, between jealousy, noting Vincent's differences, and being like his older brother, Devin must have said some very cruel things about Vincent to the other children. I know the children started playing cruel, mean and embarrassing tricks on Vincent, which made fun of him, but what those pranks and tricks were, I still do not know, and neither does Father, I don't think." She took a deep breath. "And then, when Devin left, the children were left without a role model, and kind of went their one separate ways, breaking into smaller groups."

"Clichés." Catherine said.

Mary nodded. "Vincent didn't have a group of friends of his own, a little 'cliché' where anyone wanted him, so for several years, he was a pretty lonely child, spending all of his time with adults and books." She sighed. "But I suppose that happens to many children?"

Catherine nodded. "It certainly happened to my cousin, Meg. I was really popular, but Meg wasn't. She was always so sad and lonely sometimes when we were teenagers… I realized later what a mistake I made hanging out with the cheerleaders and football players instead of Meg, my _real_ friend."

Mary again nodded. "Yes, well, that is what happened. As they got a bit older, nineteen, twenty, and such, they became chums again, all of them." She sighed. "Of course, that was also at an age where many of them left to go Above, many of which we haven't heard from since."

Catherine shook her head. "How are we going to keep history from repeating itself?"

"By loving, keep a sharp eye and training all the children that difference is a _wonderful _thing." Mary said. She eyed Maria, who had been preoccupied the entire time they were taking with a little baby doll she had found. "And plus all of the children here admire Vincent so much, and so will your baby's generation of children. I do not think there is as much to worry about."

Catherine nodded slowly. "So who do you think will be our baby's friends?"

"Well, Luke for one." Mary said, her eyes sparkling. "And I have strong feelings that Luke is going to have a sibling soon."

Catherine giggled girlishly. "Kanin and Olivia have been busy, huh?"

Mary laughed. "Yes, I think so! And there are a few other small children around, like Perchik's little brother Fyedka, Lincoln's little sister Cynthia, Penelope and Susan's brother Keith…" she ticked the names off her fingers. "There will be a few, at least. And I have a feeling their favorite activity will be the same as the children we have now."

"Following Vincent around?" Catherine asked, to which Mary nodded. "Well, hey, I like him too!"

Mary nodded. "He is a good role model for the children – Michael turned out excellent, thanks to Vincent's guidance."

"I have a feeling that all the children will." Catherine said. "Except for maybe Lincoln."

"Have faith in every single one of them." Mary told Catherine. "That is the best thing you can possibly do." She peered at Catherine's watch. "Isn't Vincent working with the older children now on their Halloween verses?"

Catherine nodded, gathering up all the things she had put in her 'keep' pile, which consisted of various colored one-pieces, diapers of all sizes, the old bottle and blankets. "Thank you, Mary." She thanked the older woman. She looked at the clothing pile curiously. "Do you have the first outfit Vincent wore?"

Mary shook her head, laughing. "Child that was so many years ago, I can't say that I even remember what it was. And besides," she shrugged. "That child spent so much time being poked and prodded at whilst sick; he wore nothing but blankets for his first six months."

Catherine laughed. "Well, thanks again, Mary."

"Your welcome." Mary replied, turning back to sorting.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"I want to do _The Butterfly Ball_." Dramatic fifteen-year-old Penelope said. "We could all dress up as beetles, gnats and dragonflies, moths and whatever else the poem mentions.

"Who wants to be a gnat when they can be a witch?" Samantha said, disgusted. "We could do _The Witches' Song_ – that's Shakespeare, right?" she looked up hopefully at Vincent.

"Yes, that is." Vincent verified. "Children," he addressed all of the children at once. "I really do not mind what you want to dress up as or what play or poem you wish to recite. I just ask that you would choose one and get along while doing so!"

"Can we all learn our own poem?" Sven asked, getting bit by the acting bug.

Vincent nodded. "If you wish, but remember, if you wish to have it acted out by other children, they must agree on it."

"Does that mean I can be a witch?" Samantha asked.

Vincent sighed. "As you wish, Maria, but remember – there are three witches in _The Witches' Song_, not just one."

"Well, if no one else wants to be a witch, then I'll just change it to one witch." Samantha said decidedly.

"Who wants to be a spider?" Penelope waved around the copy of the poem that Vincent had carefully written down a sheet of paper.

"I don't wanna do a stupid poem." Lincoln complained. "It's for sissies."

"You are the spider – it wouldn't take any acting at all." Thomas retorted to Penelope.

"Children!" Vincent tried to calm the children down. "Let me assign you each poems and parts, how about that? Then there is no fighting, all right?" he turned to Samantha. "If you wish, you may do _The Witches' Song_."

"Yes!" Samantha grinned happily.

"Susan, Chessa, do you want to do it with her?" Vincent asked the two teenage girls standing off to the side.

"Sure, why not?" they said.

"Thank you." Vincent said. Three children down, a lot more to go. "Penelope, _The Butterfly Ball_ takes too many people – perhaps you should like to do _Our Little Ghost_? It's very long and appealing."

Penelope reluctantly looked over the poem. "I guess so." She said.

Vincent turned to Thomas who, much like Michael, appreciated good literature. "Thomas, _The Wreck of the Hesperus_ is very long and difficult – do you think you could do it?"

"Yes, Vincent!" Thomas said eagerly. "Er, how long is it?"

Vincent handed him the poem that he had carefully copied down, making up three pages. "Very long."

Great!" Thomas exclaimed, happy to have such a big job to do.

Vincent turned to Lincoln, knowing that it would be tricky to find a poem that he'd be interested in doing. "How about _Casabianca_?" he asked Lincoln.

"No!" Lincoln said quickly taking a step back. "It sounds like a girl's name!"

Sven looked interested. "What's it about?"

"It is about a young boy who stays on his father's ship as it catches fire and explodes." Vincent explained. "It actually really happened."

"No way!" Lincoln broke in. "Can I see it?"

"In a moment." Vincent answered him, though looking at Sven. "Sven, would you care to perform this?"

At Sven's eager nod, Vincent handed him the poem. "Then it is yours."

"Well, hey, what about me?" Lincoln pouted. "I want a poem that really happened!"

Vincent hesitated, "Well, I did have one picked out, but it is rather long. Perhaps you would like something fictional – and shorter? _Paul Revere's Ride_ is difficult to-"

"I'll take it." Lincoln accepted the challenge.

"Fine then." Vincent handed Lincoln the poem. "I will be back within the hour to hear how well you have memorized your poems so far." And that being said, he left Father's chamber.

Catherine was standing right outside having heard the whole thing. "You gave him _Paul Revere's ride_?" she asked him doubtfully, reaching up on her tiptoes so that she could wrap her arms around his neck.

"He will do it if he is determined to." Vincent said, a creepy-crawly feeling on his scalp, the same way it did all the time whenever Catherine was anywhere near intimate with him. "I am giving Brooke _The Highwayman_."

"She'll love it." Catherine said. "She probably already has it memorized."

"She probably does." Vincent agreed. "And I am giving Maria _Fairies in the Bottom of our Garden_, as she requested, and if any of the children are up to it, I have short poems on elves that they may do."

"Bailee, Meg's daughter, is five – she might be interested." Catherine said.

"If you find out if she wants to commit a poem to memory or not, I will find her one." Vincent promised.

Catherine laughed. "I'm sure you will – how many poems have you memorized?"

"Countless." Vincent said.

"Over a hundred?" Catherine asked.

"Yes, I'm sure." Vincent said.

"Over fine hundred?" she asked next.

Vincent grimaced. "Perhaps."

"Over a thousand?" She teased.

"You are one to push your luck, aren't you?" he asked her. "So while I have been copying down poems committed to memory, what have you been doing?"

"With Mary sorting baby stuff." Catherine replied. "_Your_ baby stuff." She added.

"Mine?" Vincent seemed shocked. "What of mine did she have?"

"A rainy evening, twenty years from now, I'll show you." Catherine said teasingly. "And she gave me a brief telling of your life. I am afraid you never told me about how cruel children's tricks can be." She referred to his early teen years.

Vincent shrugged it off. "I am happy to say that they are no longer an aspect of my life, and while I still see the cruelness and hurt, I can also imagine the humorous side as well."

"Someday you'll share them with me?" Catherine asked, in hopes of soon having another long private conversation, just the two of them alone.

"Certainly." Vincent said. He looked at Catherine suspiciously. "What did Mary show you?"

"Let's say that if there had been tub photos, I would have seen them." Catherine laughed. "Now, I need to go rest this ankle before Father kills me, and you probably have children to go help. Something gives me the feeling that the children won't be able to pronounce half of the words in the poems you gave them."

"Care to be escorted back to the baby's chamber?" he offered.

She shook her head. "No thanks, I can make it." She then commenced to walk away, swinging herself on the crutches with great skill.

Vincent shook his head. He remembered once when he was about fifteen, he had actually asked Father about women. He already understood how babies were made and such, but his interest had piqued since then and had wanted to know more. The conversation had Father weeping and Vincent had never brought it up again, understanding them that love from a woman was never for him, that he was going to be denied something wonderful, what was considered the most wonderful thing in the world. And now, as he watched Catherine, he could scarcely believe that both he and Father had been wrong; a woman did love him, a truly beautiful, strong, courageous, warm, and determined woman named Catherine.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

Catherine opened her eyes suddenly. She was in a chamber, Below. _Oh yes, _she remembered. _I have been sleeping Below lately in the baby's chamber; I forgot._

Slowly, she sat up. One thing she hated about Below was that one could never tell what time it was by looking about the room, as there were no windows, so she had to squint her still half-asleep eyes at her watch; it was only three-thirty in the morning.

_Oh jeez! _Catherine wanted to moan and go back to sleep. But she couldn't; she had to use the restroom.

Wearily, she stood up, and limped her way out of the camber, using her crutches as aid, of course. She glanced down the corridor, left and the right, right and then left. No one was to be seen or heard. Good. It was hardly appropriate to leave your chamber in your nightclothes, without first covering up with a dressing gown, unless you were a child, of course. But if no one was around, surely there would be no problem.

She went to the bathroom lightly rapped on the curtain. "anyone in here?" she whispered. No reply, and seeing is how there was no candle sitting outside the bathroom door, which would signify that someone was in there, she let herself inside, leaving her candle outside, of course.

The plumbing had changed greatly Below in the past decade. Devising great plans, Mouse had managed to make the plumbing much like plumbing Above. There were great differences, Catherine was sure, on where the mechanics and gizmos were concerned, of course, but they made no difference in operating the devices.

Catherine pulled up her nightgown and sat down, rubbing her eyes tiredly. Between going through baby things, cleaning up the baby's chamber some, trying to teach the younger children to read, helping the older ones memorize their poems, time alone and time with Vincent, her day had been pretty tiring. It wasn't any of it heavy physical labor, but tiring just the same.

She looked down and saw blood in her underclothes. _Oh great, _she thought, her mind still in a haze. _I can't wait until I'm fifty and this is over with. How do they take-_

Suddenly she stopped, her heart beating wildly. If she wasn't wide awake before, she certainly was now. She was pregnant! She wasn't supposed to be having periods of blood or anything – something was greatly wrong!

"Oh my God!" she screamed with horror. "What's wrong?"


	26. Chapter 26

**Authors Note: Sorry it took so long to update. The story is about finished knocks on wood so hopefully the updates will be quicker for now on... please R&R!**

Vincent paced back and forth down the long dark corridor. He pulled his mane with worry - what was wrong? Father and Mary were there with Catherine in her chamber, obviously comforting her and helping her and... what was wrong?

He had been asleep, feeling tugs of Catherine's emotions, but he learned long ago of how not to let her waking up in the middle of the night not wake him up. But when she screamed, he was pulled out of sleep instantly, and jumped to his feet and out his chamber quicker than anything. Within seconds, Mary and Father both arrived on the scene and took Catherine to her chamber. Catherine hadn't told Vincent anything - she was standing in the hallway screaming when he got there, screaming and crying.

He looked at his watch. It was four-thirty. They had been in there an hour! Certainly, they had come to some kind of conclusion by now!

He wished for the forty millionth time in his life that he was a normal man. If he was normal, he and Catherine would have long had their Joining Day, and then Vincent could be in there with her, holding her hands, stroking her hair or whatever Father asked him to do. What on earth was wrong that he couldn't be there? In the past ten years, he had helped Father with many patients, including times with women having babies. Why couldn't he be there now, with his Catherine?

Finally, Father stepped out of the baby's chamber. "Father, what is it? What is wrong with her? Did I do anything? Can I help? Is she all right? Will she be all right? How is the baby?" he pressed his father with paranoid questions as they tumbled out of his mouth.

Father pressed his finger to Vincent's lips. "Hush now, she is sleeping."

"But what is wrong?" Vincent asked, following Father back to Father's chamber. "Surely she was screaming for some reason? Was it just a nightmare? What about? I felt her fear and worry. Is-"

"Vincent, hush." Father admonished him as they neared Father's chamber. "I have told you once before, need I tell you again? Now, not anther word until I say."

Vincent's shoulders dropped. Why wouldn't Father tell him now? Catherine had been so afraid, and now, even as she slept, she was afraid. Why was she so frightened? Why couldn't he know?

The got to Father's chamber and Father sat on his bed. "Sit down, Vincent." he said, motioning to the floor.

Vincent sat down and pulled up his knees, waiting anxiously for Father to speak. His mind wand reeling with questions, burning with them. He felt as if he was going to explode or heave a heart attack. But he kept all of the questions and outbursts inside of him; Father had told him not another word and if Vincent spoke, it would just take longer to find out the answers.

"Vincent," Father said, sitting on his bed, his legs off the edge of it. "I apologize for making you wait so, but I did not want to tell you in the hall. It would echo off the walls and before you knew it, everyone would-"

"What is wrong?" Vincent cried out in despair, not being able to contain himself any longer.

Father gave Vincent a disapproving look. "I told you not to speak until I said. Things will get done faster if you would just obey. I am your father and-"

"And I am no longer a child!" Vincent exclaimed, frustrated pounding the floor. "And if anyone has a right to know, I do!"

"Vincent, calm down." Father sooth him. "Come here."

Vincent stood up off the ground and sat beside Father over on Father's bed, waiting for Father to speak. Father hesitated before speaking, the moment he hesitated feeling like eternity to Vincent.

"She is fine, I believe." Father said finally.

Vincent gave a sigh of relief. "What was wrong?"

"Hush now and I will tell you." Father gently scolded Vincent again. "She was bleeding a bit so-"

"Bleeding?" Vincent was horrified. "The baby! Is the baby-"

"The baby is fine, as far as I can tell." Father assured his son, giving up the lecture on interruptions. Perhaps now was not the time. "I am confining her to her bed, and a special diet, but I think both she and the baby will be fine. In the morning, I will have someone get a hold of Peter and he can run more extensive tests, but not until morning."

"I will go now." Vincent said abruptly, standing up to go.

"No, Vincent." Father said, trying to calm him down. "It does not make a difference whether you go now or not."

"The sooner the better." Vincent insisted. "And it took an hour to figure out that she was bleeding, that the baby and she would be all right? I was not allowed in? Father, honestly, sometimes-"

"If you were in there, you would have peppered be with questions the entire time." Father said.

"I would not have!" Vincent said. "You know me better than that, Father, surely you do!"

"Well, I had just found it best that you weren't there." Father said decidedly.

Vincent looked at his Father, despair written all over his face. "Father, I am not a child." his voice sounded a bit hurt.

"You will always be my child," Father told him. "And if there is any way I can protect you from the hurts and the anger of the world, than I will certainly do my best to-"

"And if it had been any other woman with this problem, I would understand you withholding information!" Vincent said. "But this is Catherine! One day you say I'm entitled to know her entire health history and more, and the next day, you hardly tell me anything! Honestly Father, what am I entitled to know and keep it at the same level, please!"

Father sighed. "I suppose you are entitled to know what Catherine wants you to know."

"She says we are to tell each other everything." Vincent said seriously.

"I see." Father said. "Well, once I hear it from her lips, I shall tell you everything. After I hear it and not before." Seeing the begging look in Vincent's eyes, Father relented a bit. "She wasn't bleeding much, Vincent, just enough to keep an eye on. But the baby is fine, I promise you."

"Promise?" Vincent asked.

Father shrugged. "Well, I do not have modern medicine and tests to run, but I think the baby is fine, all right? Please, do not fret over this."

Vincent shook his head. "Father, you ask a hard thing."

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"And how are you feeling?" Peter asked, pressing the stethoscope against her swollen stomach.

"The same." Catherine replied. "Tired, frustrated and plain confused."

"Feeling anything unusual lately?" Was Peter's next question. "Any abnormal aches and pains? Any extra stress? Pains or discolorations?"

"No." Catherine said. "Well hiccupping spells and heartburn sometimes, but I read somewhere that it's normal?"

Peter nodded. "For a woman heading into her third trimester, you seem just fine. Except the bleeding."

Catherine shrugged. "Maybe it's no big deal. Maybe it's just an unusual 'trait'." She said.

Peter looked at her undoubtedly. "Do you really believe that?"

She shook her head. "No, not really."

"What about a small ruptured vein?" Vincent couldn't help but ask. He was permitted by Catherine to stand on the sidelines.

Peter nodded. "Thank you, Vincent, but I have already thought of that. I'm placing my money on _placenta previa _though."

"What's that?" Catherine asked, fear creeping into her voice. Whatever is was, it certainly didn't sound good.

"It is not too uncommon." Peter assured her. "_'Placenta previa'_ is a complicated term basically saying that the baby may be in the lower part of your uterus, instead of the upper part. Which may be a cesarean is in order when the time comes, maybe not." A took in a sharp breath, looking from Catherine to Vincent. "I really should take an ultrasound; Cathy, your father would kill me if I didn't."

Catherine shook her head. "Absolutely not. I do not want to risk _anything_." She looked over at Vincent. "What do you think?"

Vincent thought carefully before he spoke. "I am hardly an expert on the matter." He said slowly. "It is true, that if an ultrasound could help, then it seems we should do one. But the ultrasound could have a… an opposite effect. Normally they don't but sometimes… and with this baby we cannot take any chances."

Peter started to feel around Catherine's middle. "Well, the baby's heart is still beating and-"

Ouch!" Catherine yelped.

Quickly, Peter pulled away, Vincent neared Catherine and held her hand, acting on natural impulse. "What's wrong?" Peter asked her, alarmed. "Did I hurt you?"

"No. It's just – Ow!" she yelped again. "I think the baby is just kicking or rolling around or something – Ow, right here." She pointed to her ribs.

"Impossible." Peter said, pulling out his stethoscope again and listening intently. "Well, I'll be dammed." He whispered. "The baby is rolling around up near your ribs? But then that throws _placenta previa_ out the window! And you're not quite in your third trimester yet – the baby should not be rolling around like this yet!"

Vincent hung his head. "A lot of things should not be happening." He said softly.

Peter turned to the younger man that he had helped live as a baby. "Now, Vincent, I did not mean it that way." He said to him. "I'm just-"

"Ouch, little guy!" Catherine laughed.

Peter smiled at her. "I'm just surprised that it's happening so quickly." He gave a sigh of relief. "Perhaps your, um, the kind of, people like…" he stuttered trying to figure out how to say it. " Perhaps you were born prematurely or something?" he said to Vincent finally. "Or moved around prematurely, or developed quicker or something?"

"Or something." Vincent agreed, smiling at Catherine who was smiling at the baby, who was, of course, still in her stomach.

Peter looked thoughtful. "Maybe it might be better to have the baby Above, even if just in my brownstone or Catherine's apartment." He suggested. "Having a hospital nearby will be helpful."

"No." Vincent said abruptly, not even taking a beat. It startled and surprised both Catherine and Peter, who then waited for his explanation. "It's just that, well, she's just as safe or safer Below." Vincent tried.

"I'll be here this evening." Peter promised. "And I'll check back up on you every day until the baby is born, understand? And I hope we'll talk more about where to have the baby. This baby is risky business, I hope you understand."

Catherine and Vincent both nodded together. "Yes sir, we do." Vincent said solemnly.

Peter waved at them. "See you tonight then, and Catherine – stay in that bed. Under no circumstances do you get out, unless Vincent is carefully carrying you to a short distance, and then only if Father or I give the okay, understand?"

She nodded. "Yes, I do." She said softly as Peter left the room.

Vincent looked over at Catherine. They were alone for the first time that day. She noted the worried look in his eye and attempted to soothe him. "Vincent, it'll be okay. Father says it will be, and so does Peter, and they don't often lie. I'll be fine, and so will the baby."

Vincent shook his head. "I know that about you, but the baby…" he looked at her in the eyes, speaking earnestly. " What if we make a wrong decision? What if we make one decision that ruins our baby's life – before it is even born? What if we-"

"We're taking all the necessary precautions, Vincent." Catherine told him.

"No, we are not." He said. "Because we don't even know what the necessary precautions are! There could be problems that we're not even aware of…" he shook his head. "And of why I wanted to make sure the baby is born Below because the lights Above are so harsh – I've seen them, Catherine, inside houses and hospitals and such. It would be torture for my child to be born in such light."

"Because your eyes are so sensitive." Catherine understood. "Because you can't stand bright lights, the baby might not be able to, either. I understand, Vincent."

Vincent nodded, beginning to pace again. "And Below is much quieter than Above. It is silent, save the pipes banging. Above is so loud that… in case the baby's hearing is like mine, then we should have it Below."

Catherine nodded; knowing that Vincent's hearing was sensitive, like his eyes were. "Sorry for not thinking of these things, Vincent." She apologized. "Its just that I'm not very aware of how bright is too bright, how loud is too loud… I don't even think about such things, I'm sorry."

Vincent nodded. "And while I'm not quite sure how ultrasounds work, I'm sure they may involve bright lights? I know X-Rays do. And for all we know, that could be fatal."

Catherine nodded slowly, thinking about how much Vincent cared about the baby to be thinking about such things.

"Also," Vincent took a deep breath. "We do not know of my… of me at all. Whether I was born or simply created, whether my outer – and inner traits are natural or not, whether I'm fully human or even human at all… and if I'm not, what am I? And what happens when someone of my… species 'mates' with one of yours. What if-"

"Well, there's nothing we can do to prevent the bad." Catherine reminded him.

Vincent sighed. "This is so frustrating. We don't know _what_ we can prevent."

"Well, worrying about it won't help." Catherine said. "We'll have to take it in stride, and be considerate of the things we do, but not worry ourselves to death." She smiled. "And I thought that I was supposed to be the paranoid one."

"You will have your turn, I am sure." Vincent assured her.

Catherine moaned. "Oh jeez, I feel _fine_! I can't wait to get out of this bloody bed!"

"Catherine, please stay in it." Vincent begged her. "Both Peter and Father are not quite sure what is wrong, and whatever it is, it cannot be good. Please, do it for me, for the baby?"

Catherine nodded. "It's just not going to be fun." She said glumly. "Oh shoot, I've got to call Joe!" she started to climb out of bed, but Vincent stopped her.

"No, I will tell him." Vincent told her.

"You?" Catherine asked, confused. "But you can't go Above in this time of the morning! It's nearly nine o'clock!"

"Just the same, I'll see that he knows." Vincent said. "Trust me on that." And on those words, he left her the baby's chamber.

Catherine sighed. This was going to be a long rest-of-the-pregnancy.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

Joe massaged his temples, tiredly. He had been up half of the night doing the work Catherine hadn't done all week, while she had her week off. _Cathy, you owe me. _He thought, exhausted. Suddenly his desk phone rang. _Oh, this had better be good,_ he thought. He picked up the phone. "Hello, Joe Maxwell, District Attorney's office."

"Joe, is Catherine there yet?" It was Moreno and he seemed a bit on edge.

"Uh, nooo." Joe said slowly, peering out his office window. "At least, she hasn't come in to see me yet – why do you ask?"

"Because she hasn't exactly been here, where she needs to be!" Moreno said impatiently. "If she's not in by noon, give her a call and ask her what the hold-up is."

"That I will do, sir." Joe said. "'Bye." He hung up his phone and took the last sip of his coffee. It was now cold, and some un-dissolved, bitter coffee slid into his mouth with the rest of it. "Uck!" he said, wiping his mouth and throwing the disposable cup across the room, aiming for the trashcan. "He shoots and he-"the cup fell to the floor, missing the trashcan by inches. "And he doesn't score." Joe finished tiredly.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door. "Come in." Joe said. _And that had better be Cathy_, he thought.

But it wasn't. Instead, it was a man with a snack cart. "Hey, Mr. Maxwell, right?" the man said jollily.

"Yep." Joe said, glancing at the clock. "Do I get the honor of being served lunch at nine in the morning, instead of twelve like normal people?"

"Well, er, I've got a _special_ sandwich." The man said. "And besides, I want to deliver the food earlier, 'cause I got places top go. Now here, take this." He handed Joe a dry ham and cheese sandwich.

Joe made a face. "Gross, first you don't let me choose when I get my sandwich, and then you have to pick it out for me, something nastier than chocolate syrup on rye." He looked at the man suspiciously. "Have you poisoned this sandwich or something?"

The man looked nervous. "Uh, maybe I have the wrong Joe Maxwell?"

Joe shook his head. "No, I'm the only 'Joe' here."

The man leaned over Joe's desk. "You know Jacob Wells?" he whispered.

Joe's head snapped up. Wasn't that that old man who lived Below? "Why?" Joe asked suspiciously.

"Just do you know him?" the man asked.

Joe nodded, so the man leaned over to whisper again. "Well, inside that there sandwich is a message from his son." He sighed, walking away, taking his snack cart with him. "Some people…" he muttered as he left.

Joe wrinkled his brow, confused, and then he remembered – Vincent! Catherine's strange looking lover dude was Jacob Wells' son! He forgot, but he figured it wasn't the first time someone had; it wasn't like they looked alike or anything.

Joe peered around to make sure no one was peeking in the windows or something at him. Once he was satisfied that no one was he opened the sandwich. Sure enough, there was a piece of paper folded up in there. Joe quickly pulled it out and unfolded it. Inside was a letter written in flowerily script;

_September 4__th__, 1989_

_Dear Joe,_

_I am sorry to be the one to have to bear such bad news, but because of medical problems, Catherine has been confined to bed-rest for the duration of her pregnancy. However, if you would like the details, you are welcome Below at any time and may ask Catherine of Father, or you could simply call Peter Alcott – he knows of Below as well, so do not worry about that. Thank you for your kindness and understanding.  
_

_**V**_

Joe shook his head. Medical problems? What was it, her broken ankle? What medical problems? Was she just trying to avoid work? That sure didn't sound like the Catherine he knew.

He reached into his desk and pulled out the phone book. He started to look up 'Alcott, Peter'. He needed to get some answers before Catherine and he both got fired.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

Catherine laid down the book she was reading, "The Tin Man of Oz". Vincent suggested that after she finished re-reading all of the Oz books, that she starts reading them to the children, especially now that she had all this spare time on her hands. And normally she'd be grateful for something fun and relaxing to do like that, but "relaxing" seemed to describe everything she did now. All she did was lie in bed and talk, read, sleep, eat and the like. Everything boring. And what was even worse was that she felt like she had the energy to run a marathon, but wasn't even allowed to stand up. It had been nice the first couple hours, and even the first couple days, but now, it was getting old.

_And Meg was supposed to call me last night. _Catherine thought regrettably. _Now she's probably worried to death about me. I wonder how her conversation with Mike went. Well, I suppose he took it all right, otherwise the FBI and such would be done here, making every last person was out of here, right?_

She sighed. Vincent was teaching the children, but he had gotten called to do something. Otherwise he would have probably be in the baby's chamber with her, hanging on every word she said, making sure she was comfortable, that her every need and wish were met. Not that she needed him to be in full servitude of her; she was very capable of taking care of herself in most circumstances. But she did like having someone around to talk to. And his wonderful reassuring voice was a comfort as well.

She pulled out a book of the nightstand Meg had given her to borrow, called _Every Aspect of Having a Child_. According to Meg, it literally covered _everything_ she and Vincent needed to know. Of course, there were unusual circumstances, so it might not cover _everything_, but of course, Meg had meant well, and the book would certainly cover many aspects that she and Vincent needed to know about.

Suddenly she heard a familiar voice from behind the curtain that gave her a bit of privacy from the rest of the community. "Catherine, may I come in?" Was Vincent's, as always, a bit tentative question.

"Yes, Vincent." Catherine said. "And you don't need to be so hesitant. 99.9 of the time all I'm doing is reading, eating or sleeping."

Vincent didn't make a reply. Instead, he sat on the edge of her bed. "What are you reading?"

Catherine showed him. "Meg said it'll help, and I promised to give it a try."

Vincent nodded. "It can only help – that is for certain."

Catherine nodded. "That's what I thought." She sighed dreamily. "Think of any names yet?"

"I haven't really put my mind to it." Vincent admitted.

"That's all right - look at all the time I have on my hands and I've barely thought of it either." Catherine laughed. "But do you have any names in mind?"

Vincent thought a moment before he spoke. "Thinking of names seems so… final. A name seems to not only express ones gender, but also their personality, their lives and… how they look."

Catherine nodded slowly. "That's true… well, we can at least make a list of names and we can choose one from the list when the baby is born. What boy names do you like?"

"Let us pray that it is not a boy." Was Vincent's quiet reply.

"Not a boy?" Catherine seemed to be shocked. "Why not?"

Vincent got up and started pacing, as he always did when he was deep in thought, anxious, or some feeling of the like. "It is very… indescribable, my feelings upon this." He started out slowly.

"Well, we have time." Catherine said, concerned. "Just try to explain it."

Vincent kept pacing for a few more moments, thinking. Finally, he stopped and looked at Catherine. "Did your mother have great influence on you when you were a child? More so than your father, I am presuming?"

Catherine thought and then nodded slowly. "I guess so. But Daddy had to have some influence on me – I went to law school, you know."

Vincent nodded, continuing to pace again. "But you would say that your mother influenced you the greatest, even though she passed away when you were only a child?"

Catherine nodded, thinking she knew what Vincent was getting at. But she wanted him to say it out loud, since it usually helped him organize his thoughts better that way. "I suppose that a person is influenced by the parent of the same gender. It's what they strive to be."

Vincent stopped pacing once again, and looked at Catherine directly in the eye. "And that is why we have a problem."

Catherine shook her head. "Why do we have a problem?"

Vincent threw his hands up in the air, beginning to pace yet once again. "Because who will be our child's role model?"

"It depends on whether the baby is a boy or a girl." Catherine said, knowing very well what Vincent was trying tot get at.

He stopped pacing and eyed her carefully. "You know what I am thinking?" he asked at last, knowing that she had to understand what he was saying, or at least trying to say, by now.

Catherine laughed. ":Not what your thinking the way you know what I'm feeling, but what your thinking would be obvious to anyone, I think." She patted the edge of the bed gently. "Sit down."

Vincent started pacing again. "I can't." he said.

Catherine knew it was useless to plead with him, because he and she both knew that pacing helped him think and work off the awful energy that he had. "Vincent, if you are thinking what I think you are thinking, we need to talk."

"We are talking." Vincent gave a slight growl.

Catherine bit her tongue. "It's just so hard to talk top you when you're pacing like that!"

He stopped and sat down on a chair next to her bed. She could still tell that he was full of energy and needed to pace, perhaps, but it was just impossible to talk to him like that. She seriously wondered how Father had put up with it for all of those years.

"Vincent, are you worried that you cannot be the ideal role model for our baby, if it is a boy?" she asked him gently.

Vincent threw his hands up in the air, resisting the urge to get up and start pacing. "I am not worried. One worries about something when they don't know for a fact."

"And you don't know for a fact." Catherine gently reminded him.

"I know that if our child is a boy, I cannot possibly be the one he looks at to do the right thing!" Vincent exclaimed. "You know as well as I do, my problems, Catherine."

"We all have problems." Catherine stated. "And I _know_ you're worried; I'm worried too."

Vincent eyed her critically. "You are?" he asked at last.

"Oh, heck yes!" Catherine answered. "I'm worried about the next four months, on how you, I and the baby will survive all of these horrible messes. I'm scared to death about actually having the baby; Peter mentioned a c-section, and I can only imagine how hideous that would be. And even if there isn't a C-section, I'm looking at hours upon hours of intense pain – my mother was in labor with me for sixteen hours, Vincent. Sixteen hours! And then, what about the baby? I'm not worried about a name; we can think of one before the Naming Ceremony, I have no doubt, and whether it is a boy or girl is also the least of my concerns. What if it has a problem that really any baby could have? From autism, to Downs syndrome, to missing a leg, to God only knows what, and then having some of your… traits, which we don't even know are! And then you could have passed on some traits to the baby that we don't even know about? Like maybe, they are just in your blood and haven't affected you, but are still there! And then there are all the little details, like the baby crying all night, spitting up and loads of dirty laundry, if its a boy, whether to have him circumcised or not. And then, once the baby gets older, it gets even better! Then it's actually watching every move we make, imitating every move we make! And what if the baby is not content to be Below? What if it has some kind of urban-thing and goes Above every chance it gets? What happens if Below is discovered? Whether it is discovered tonight or forty years from now, it will affect this baby, I am sure. And speaking of forty years from now, what's going to happen then? If we're not dead, we'll almost be and while the baby can take care of itself, losing parents can be a horrible thing – I know you've never lost a parent, so take it from me – I know. And what if I die during childbirth, and then a rock falls on you a couple days later? We can't have a parentless baby! And your sperm lasted a year before I got pregnant, Vincent. A year! We can only hope that I'm not going to get pregnant again or at least right after this one if born! We don't know _anything_ about _anything_! When I was sixteen-years-old, my life was mapped out, day by day, week, by week, month by month, year by year. None, of this confusion and chaos was supposed to be in the plan! It wasn't! Not at all! And you were surprised to find out I was worried? Vincent sometimes I just don't get you!"

She was almost shouting now, tears streaming down her face. Vincent was a little dumbfounded at her long monologue but felt her fear, confusion and pain soar through his body, so he quickly recovered himself and moved to sit on the bed beside Catherine, holding her in his arms, stroking her hair, trying to calm her down.

"Shhh… Shhh…" He shushed her gently. "It is going to be all right, Catherine. Really, I think it will. Shhh… we do not know if any of these things are going to happen, and no matter what, it _will_ be all right – we'll make it all right. We have gone through pain and strife together before Catherine, and we will do it again. Shhh…"

He used a fur-covered finger to wipe away the tears streaming down her cheeks. The fur tickled her, so she pulled away. "Stop it!" she said angrily.

Vincent still held onto her, though ceasing to try to dry her tears. "Catherine, much of what you told me we have already discussed before. It is already taken care of. As for any of the traits that the baby might have, you told me before not to worry about them, because they are things that we can do nothing to fix right now. So why are you worrying now?"

She glared at him. "I never said that."

She had, but Vincent knew it was useless to argue with her. "I am worried about how to be a parent, Catherine. But we have Kanin and Olivia, father and many others, who can help guide us. And as for being a role model, I will admit; I am frightened. But think of all the people is history that have had to be role models; hundreds upon thousands. Billions, Catherine. And if we ever have any doubts, there will be someone to talk to, to help us." He was speaking these words not only for Catherine, but for his own benefit too. He knew that being a role-model for your child was not something to be taken lightly, but maybe he had been worrying a little too much.

"And what if something goes wrong?" Catherine asked. "You going Above like a maniac nearly every night… you're going to get caught and killed someday – or worse!"

Vincent knew that reminding her that he had spent every second Below for months, now, like a caged animal he felt, wouldn't do any good. He also didn't feel as to describing her that he had almost forgotten what the night air smelled like, and the picture of Central Park in his brain was growing fuzzy. He knew telling her how much he missed his late-night strolls Above, and the freedom he felt while doing so was useless. She would probably get angry, taking it the wrong way, and he would just be left with an even bigger mess.

"I am very careful, Catherine." He told her. "I have been going Above nearly every night since I was fifteen, an infant." He used 'infant' as meaning under the age of twenty-one. "I know all of the tricks, how to avoid each and every dog walker, jogger and headlight."

"But you've been caught before." Catherine accused him. "By those gang members and again by those science students or whatever they were. You're not careful enough."

He didn't bother to mention that both times, he had been preoccupied with other things that involved her, such as saving her life. He thought he was getting pretty good at dealing with a woman while she was pregnant situation.

"Well, I have no been Above in quite some time." Vincent said. "And I shall not even consider it until the end of October."

She wrinkled her brow. "What's the end of October?"

"Halloween." He reminded her.

"But what about the children's performance?" she asked. "And Mike and Meg coming? And-"

"I can get all of that done earlier in the evening." He told her. "I would not miss going Above that night for anything. I only wish that you could-"he paused for a moment, his eyes brightening hopefully. "Perhaps Father would permit me to take you with me? Even if all we do is, sit on a park bench the entire night. I would much rather spend the night Above with you than by myself."

"Oh, right, just carry me along with you like I'm your toy doll." She said sarcastically. "I'll pass."

He looked a bit hurt. "You mean you do not want to come? I think that it should be fun."

"Well, for you." She retorted. "But there's no way I'm going to freeze out there, sitting on a normal park bench all night."

"you enjoyed it last year." He reminded her.

"Jeez, are you gonna try to force me?" her eyes flashed.

Vincent shook his head, taking an automatic step away. "No, no. Not if you do not want to. Look," he took a deep breath. "Why don't I bring you some soup or something?"

She shook her head. "I'm not hungry and I hate that nasty soup."

He also realized that reminding her how much she loved the soup before now wouldn't do any good. "Well, perhaps a sandwich? Or an apple? Maybe something sweet?"

She shook her head. "I'm not hungry."

Vincent nodded, slowly. "Well, I do not want to hinder you from your rest." He couldn't believe that he was actually trying to get away from Catherine.

"Sure you don't." she said sarcastically as he left her chamber.

Outside the chamber, Vincent shook his head, replaying the events that had just played out in the baby's chamber. She wasn't herself, so if she got some rest, she would certainly be calmed down, right? He hoped so, because he hated it when she acted like this. It hurt too much to have her say the things that she said, and sometimes he wondered where his Catherine had gone.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"Hey, is this Peter Alcott?" Joe checked the name on the note Vincent had given him.

"Yes." A male voice said on the other end of the line. "And who is this?"

"Joe. Joe Maxwell. I'm with the district attorney's office." Joe said./ "You wouldn't happen to know a Catherine Chandler, would you?"

"Cathy! Yes, I do! Is something wrong?" the man's voice sounded alarmed.

"Um, no, I don't know." Joe said. "I'm kind of like her supervisor here at the office, and she didn't show up for work today. I got a note from- from someone close to her that said you could tell me more about it, about what's wrong."

The man on the other end took a deep breath. "And who was this note from again?"

Joe hesitated. What did this guy know about Vincent and his ilk anyways? "Um, it was signed 'V'." Joe said. "I'm guessing it was her friend, Vincent? Um… you wouldn't happen to know this guy, would you."

He heard a sigh of relief on the other end. "So you know of Vincent? You've met him? Face to face?"

Joe nodded slowly. "Okay, so as long as we're talking about him… you're a doctor-"

"I don't know." Peter interrupted. "His father, Jacob, and I go way back together, and have been searching for years to figure out the missing clues to his past, his existence. And I cannot tell you one thing."

"Dr/ Patient confidentiality?" Joe asked.

"No, more like 'we don't know' a thing." Peter said.

"Oh, interesting. So, Cathy? Is she okay? What's wrong?"

Peter took a deep breath. "This note was from Vincent, you say?"

Joe nodded. "Yes, it was."

"Well, I would say that this is a case of Dr./Patient confidentiality." Peter said. "Something I'm not sure that Catherine would like me to share… but certainly if Vincent said then… can you read the note to me?"

"What?"

"Read the note to me." Peter repeated.

"Oh, okay. It was in my sandwich." Joe said, picking the note up off of his desk.

Peter laughed. "Okay, now I'm at least convinced you know what you're talking about."

"Okay, here it is." Joe cleared his throat. "' I am sorry to be the one to have to bear such bad news, but because of medical problems, Catherine has been confined to bed-rest for the duration of her pregnancy. However, if you would like the details, you are welcome Below at any time and may ask Catherine of Father, or you could simply call Peter Alcott – he knows of Below as well, so do not worry about that. Thank you for your kindness and understanding' and then it just has a 'V' on the end. The handwriting is kind of hard to read, kind of cursive-ish, longish, flow-ish and flowery."

Peter couldn't help but chuckle at the young man's description of Vincent's handwriting. "It's called 'good handwriting'." Peter said. "Okay, well, to give you a brief explanation, Catherine woke up last night with some hemorrhaging, and she is confined to bed rest for the duration of the pregnancy."

"Hemorrhaging." Joe repeated. "Like bleeding? Only on the inside?"

"Yes." Peter said. "It is never a good thing, but always much worse when one is pregnant."

"Why is she hemorrhaging?" Joe wanted to know.

"To find out we would have to run certain tests and take a couple ultrasounds." Peter explained. "Vincent and Catherine don't want to risk hurting the baby."

"How can you hurt a baby with an ultrasound?" Joe was confused.

Peter sighed. "I don't know, but then again, if there is a way to get hurt, a child of Vincent's would certainly find the way. We're hoping… we don't know what we're hoping. A cesarean might be in order, but we won't know for awhile."

"Shouldn't she be in a hospital?" Joe asked anxiously.

"She should." Peter agreed. "But the baby is of Vincent, which would be too great of a risk for everyone involved. She is just as safe Below, besides."

"You need to take some serious action!" Joe exclaimed. "Ultrasounds, tests and whatnot are in order to make sure she is fine!"

"Yes, I know, Mr. Maxwell." Peter tried to assure Joe. "But it is up to her and Vincent what to do, not me. And if I did have it my way," he thought a moment. "I don't know what I'd do. Catherine and Vincent are both very special to me – I've know Vincent since he was only hours old, and delivered Catherine! And I also respect their judgment. I cannot force anything on them! I'm going to try to have her have the baby at my place; its closer to the hospital, just in case, warmer, brighter so its easier for me to see what I'm doing, and Vincent can sneak into my house somehow, if he wants. Aside from that, there's nothing more I can do."

"How can you hurt a baby with an ultrasound?" Joe asked again.

"It's happened before, but not very often, only extreme rarities." Peter said. "And then people still don't know if the ultrasound is at fault. But the baby's heart is still beating, it's moving around and- and it's not a normal baby, I can go ahead and tell you that. It was rolling around in Catherine upper stomach today – it's not supposed to be doing that yet."

"You think it'll be like Vincent?" Joe asked, fearful for Catherine.

"I don't know." Peter said patiently. "I just don't know. Now the odds are that it will look a bit like both of them, right? Let's just hope the similarities to Vincent's appearance, nature, et cetera are not vast." He paused. "Is there anything else you'd like to know?"

"Yeah." Joe said. "There is. The note said I could come Below and see her? Well, bringing a bit of paperwork for her to work on wouldn't be a bad idea would it?"

Peter laughed. "I think she's eager to get back to work. Give her paperwork, but try not to give her work that is too stressing, okay? Nice talking to you, Joe. Goodbye."

"Bye." Joe said, hanging up the receiver back in its cradle. What was he going to tell Moreno?

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"You won't believe how excited I am to be home." Meg had gotten home the night before and tried to call Catherine, but wound up with no one answering. So then, she chickened out from telling Mike about what _really _happened in New York City, or Below it, rather. But she had to tell Mike tonight – she just had to.

"That's good." Mike said, reading the day's newspaper. It was eleven o'clock at night, on September 4th. They were sitting in the living room, Bailee and Cameryn having already gone to sleep, of course.

"Uh, Mike?" Meg asked hesitantly.

"What is it?" Mike put down the newspaper, making eye contact with his wife.

"Um, something is going on that you need to know about." She said uncomfortably.

Mike looked alarmed. "What is it?"

"It's about Catherine." Meg said slowly. "And her boyfriend."

"What about them?" Mike asked. "Are we playing _20 Questions_ or something?"

Meg sighed. "Well, the thing is, if I tell you, you'll think I'm crazy."

"Honey, I think one in my profession can tell what crazy and what it isn't." Mike reminded her. "And you're not crazy."

"Okay then." Meg took a deep breath. "But you have to keep it a secret?"

"Swear." Mike said. "I swear on… on… I swear."

She glared at him. "It's not the time for jokes."

Mike sighed. "All right, sorry – what do you have to tell me?"

"Well, in order to tell you the whole story I have to go back to the 1940's." Meg said.

Mike looked surprised. "Wow, when you told me she often liked older men, you weren't kidding!"

Meg sighed. "Its not that… well, a man named Jacob Wells and a few other people sort of formed a community under the streets of New York, in these cave-like tunnels."

"What?" Mike seemed surprised. "Like 'mole people'?"

Meg shook her head. "No, it's different that that. They are a… special community, so loving, open, caring-"

"Like the Methodist?" Mike couldn't help but crack the joke.

Meg glared at him. "Not funny – some people would find that offensive."

"Okay, okay, sorry." Mike said. "You're serious, okay."

"Well, in the 50's, I guess it was, someone found a baby boy in a dumpster." Meg said.

"Catherine's boyfriend?" Mike asked.

Meg nodded. "The people Below, Below is what they call those tunnels, took him in. He was sick, frozen nearly, starving, and they took care of him." She paused. "He has some… deformities as well."

Mike furrowed his brows in concentration. "Continue."

"Well, first of all, he has fur." Meg began.

"Fur?" Mike nearly shouted. "Fur? Define fur?"

"Fur, like the fur on a dog." Meg explained. "It's kind of bronze-ish, gold-ish, copper-ish colored fur. And his hands are gigantic, like two of mine. And he's got claws at the end of his fingers instead of fingernails."

Mike was dumbfounded. "Honey, you feeling okay?"

Meg nodded. "Fine. Can I continue?"

Mike nodded. "So long as your promise that you're not telling me crazy stories."

"I promise you." Meg said. "Anyways, he's got a really flat nose and broad cheeks, and instead of normal teeth, he has fangs."

"Fangs?" Mike sounded really worried. "Like, vampire fangs?"

Meg nodded. "Something of the like. And instead of normal hair, he's got like a mane, like the mane of a lion. And his upper lip is cleft, kind of. Split in the middle, kind of like a lion's." she shook her head. "And you are not buying a word of this, are you?"

Mike shrugged. "Well, you'd never lie to me, but… Meg, why are you telling me this?"

"You'll see." Meg said. "Anyways, even though he's really ugly and scary looking, he's a real nice guy, with a heart of gold. He's intelligent, loving, brave and all of those wonderful things you can possibly think of put together. But… but he has to live under the ground, in the Tunnels, because if he walked around like that Above, people would kill him or put him in a science lab for sure."

"And Catherine had sex with this monster?" Mike asked slowly.

"He's not a monster, don't you see?" Meg cried out. "He… he just looks like one. And yes, once she did. Just once, about a year ago. And then a couple months ago, she got pregnant."

Mike shook his head. "Meg, you know as well as I do that that does not make sense."

"It doesn't have to!" Meg tried to explain. "No one knows anything about Vincent, where he came from, how his body works. But apparently it works differently, otherwise she wouldn't be pregnant with his child months later – or he wouldn't look like he does."

"What's the baby gonna be like?" Mike wondered out loud.

Meg shuddered. "We don't know. But they want me to help with the delivery, in December."

Mike looked at his young wife seriously. "We cannot afford such an extravagant trip so soon."

"Catherine said that she's willing to pay." Meg said. "It's that important to her. And she wants our entire family to come Below for Halloween."

Mike was confused. "Halloween isn't normally celebrated with family and such, like Christmas or-"

"No, its not, but the children who live Below are working on some kind of talent show to perform, and Catherine and Vincent, who is her boyfriend, think it's the ideal time for our entire family to meet him. You know Halloween and all. If the girls are prepared for Halloween, Vincent won't scare them as much.

"You're going to introduce the girls to him?" Mike asked in disbelief.

Meg nodded. "He's great with kids, Mike. And you need to get involved too. I know it seems crazy but-"

"But I need a glass of brandy." Mike said, "And then I'll sleep on it. I'll tell you what I think in the morning. Goodnight, Meg." And that said, he left the living room and went into the kitchen.

Meg sighed. Mike was just overwhelmed, confused and tired. He'd come around… eventually. It was going to be hard without some photo proof, but she just had to make him believe it – absolutely had to.


	27. Chapter 27

26

**A/N: I'm pretty sure this is where my heavy writer's block started. A little bit before here, maybe. Just trying to excuse any weird things...**

**Also, thanks you much for your reviews – and your faithfulness! It makes me so happy that someone thinks my work is 'phenomenal' and that people LOOK FORWARD to me updating this! Writing is such a big aspect of my life (most of the time), so actually knowing its appreciated... I cannot find the words to say 'thank you'. You are all truly awesome, amazing, loving, people (who, might I add, have very good taste in television and fanfic (j/k)) and... well, I just wanted to know that you make me smile, you make me laugh, you make me feel good inside. You bring light into an otherwise dark day, so often. And I appreciate it – if I can do the same for you someday, just let me know! All right, time to end this emotionally-charged rant; love ya, and thanks!**

"_A loving little ghost it is: when crept into the next, its hand on Father's shoulder laid its head on Mother's breast. It watches each familiar face, with a tranquil, trusting eye; And like a sleepy little bird, sings it own soft lullaby_." Penelope recited the poem _A Little Ghost_ for Catherine in the baby's chamber. "_Then those who feigned to sleep before, lest the babies play till dawn, wake and watch their folded flower- little rose without a thorn. And, in the silence of the night, the hearts that love it most, pray tenderly above its sleep, 'God bless our little ghost'_!"

Catherine applauded, trying not to show her weariness. "Good job, Penelope. You got it word for word! In this rate, you'll have no problem wowing everyone on Tuesday!"

Penelope flushed, very pleased with herself. "Oh, do you think I did all right?" she asked, taking the paper with the poem written on it from Catherine.

Catherine nodded. "Wonderful. You're a good storyteller – you had me believing you. You know what? Some people use storytelling as- ah!"

"What?" Penelope leapt to her feet in worry at Catherine's gasp. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, nothing." Catherine said. "The baby is just kicking is all. Here – feel." She laid Penelope's hand on her belly. Moments later, Penelope felt something move.

"It is!" Penelope laughed. She then looked at Catherine belly, confused. "Your belly feels hard as a rock!"

Catherine nodded. "It's all baby, not fat, thank the Lord." She chuckled. "I'm gigantic."

"No, your not!" Penelope laughed, but it was true – Catherine was very, very, very big.

It was Friday, October 27th, 1989, a mere four days until Halloween – only five or six weeks until the baby was expected. Below, things had been going fine. Joe had been coming down every couple days with more paperwork, picking up the stuff she had finished, told her what was the news Above. They laughed and talked for awhile until he had to go, and then Peter would usually come, accompanied by Father, and they'd poke and prod and do all of their stuff to make sure she was okay. As for the hemorrhaging, it had gone, completely gone away. But Peter and Father still insisted she stayed in bed. Whatever the bleeding had been, it didn't seem to have an effect on the pregnancy so far, but risking anything would be crazy. So she had continued to sit in bed all day, every day.

The children's performance was going to be great, Catherine was sure. The children had been practicing and memorizing for weeks, that there wasn't any possible way that the performance wasn't going to be extraordinary. Thomas had gotten his poem down pat only the previous day, and now was working really hard on reading it with feeling, dramatic emotion. Samantha, Chessa, and Susan's _The Witches' Song_ was still being fussed and fought over, but Catherine was pretty sure they'd work it out; Vincent warned them that if it wasn't ready by Tuesday night they couldn't be in the show, a fair warning to be sure. Maria was really excited about her fairy poem, having it committed to memory in just days after Vincent gave it to her. Now, whenever someone was around the girl, she had to recite it for them. She didn't seem to care that _everyone_ would gave it memorized by the time the show came!

Sven was a little awkward on his poem and was going to do fine, and no one knew how Lincoln was doing – he didn't bother to share that with anyone, but Catherine had her doubts that he had even started memorizing it, for he was such a slacker. And all of the younger children, aged three, four and five were Vincent's special surprise. Everyone knew it was some poem of some sort, probably a short one about dwarves, hobbits, or elves, for they were all short, but which poem it was, they didn't know. The children, of course, thought everyone was _completely_ mystified as to what they were going to do, which, of course, was Vincent's intentions. _He is so good with them, _she thought with a smile.

"So have you picked out any names yet?" Penelope asked. It seemed like that was all everyone asked.

"No." Catherine said. "I like the idea of naming the baby after my daddy, which would be 'Charles', but then it would only be fair to name him 'Charles Jacob' or 'Jacob Charles' and I don't know about that; do most babies Below have a middle name?"

Penelope shook her head. "Not that I know of. Why don't you ask Vincent?"

Catherine sighed. She and Vincent had talked plenty in the past two months, but some things she still didn't know about. Would she ever learn all of Below's customs, traditions and how they differed from Above's?

But as for their 'relationship', everything was fine. She knew she was lucky. She had acted like such a… the word she wanted to use would be one that either Vincent had never heard before or if he had, he would be just plain shocked. She giggled at how cute and wonderful his innocence was.

"What's so funny?" Penelope asked.

"Nothing." She said quickly. "Your right; I'll ask Vincent."

"I'm going to go read him my poem, see what he thinks." Penelope said, running for the chamber 'door'. "Wish me luck!"

"Good luck!" Catherine called after her, laughing. Vincent was truly the best man anyone could ever ask for. The absolute best. How he had put up with her whining, complaining, harsh, unjust criticism, her very dumb or very personal questions, and more was beyond her. And he still loved her. And true, their relationship was not typical. They had still never kissed or anything of the sort, still held up the extreme modesty barriers, and privacy barriers, but it was just… closer than it had been, for some reason. She wasn't sure, but whatever step they had taken in furthering their relationship had worked. As small and seemingly unnoticeable as it had been, it had worked.

Suddenly she heard the familiar rough, yet gentle voice outside the chamber. "Catherine, are you busy?" It was Vincent, of course.

"No, no I'm not." She called. "Come in."

Vincent entered her chamber. Wow, he looked… very drool worthy, in Catherine opinion. She bit her lip to keep from laughing at her choice of words. He was wearing a light blue pullover sweater, one she had only seen him wear once before, not long after she had first met him. That combined with his reddish-blonde mane… he looked very good indeed.

Vincent held out his hand, puzzled. "Is my presence here really that funny?"

Catherine tried to stop her giggles. "Not funny, just… oh, never mind." She said, knowing he would be embarrassed if she told him what she thought of him in that sweater. And besides, he probably already knew, seeing is how he could feel her feelings, and did not wear it often!

"Penelope is looking for you." She told Vincent.

Vincent nodded. "I saw her in the corridor. All of the children are very excited about their performance."

Catherine nodded, making a space for Vincent on the foot of the bed, where he always sat. "They are all doing great, well, at least the ones who have practiced for me. Lincoln…has he even started working on it?"

Vincent nodded. "I think so. He pretends he does not care, but he does. I think he will have it memorized by Tuesday, and once he sees the tremendous applause the other children are getting, he will be eager as well." he sat down lightly on the bed. "We have to have faith in him, Catherine. His parents are not very involved in his life, of late. I am not quite sure why, but they are not. And while it is not our duty to correct them, it is to help where we can. And we need to have faith in him, Catherine. If we don't, no one will."

Catherine nodded. "Meg once commented that you cared more for people than they deserved, or more than they cared for you, even when you don't have to."

Vincent nodded. "Kindness never killed anyone, it is cruelty that kills. And each person has feelings, and is an individual. Each person has a reason for the way that they act, Catherine."

"I know." Catherine said. "So, I'm sure you're all hyped up about Tuesday night."

"Yes." Vincent said. "I am sure the children will be wonderful."

"No, but I mean about going Above." Catherine said. "You don't have to worry whether someone sees you or not! So what are you going to do?"

Vincent looked at her seriously. "I thought you told me that it was childish, that it was no big deal?"

"I did?" Catherine asked, confused.

Vincent nodded. "Several weeks ago, yes, you told me something along those lines."

"I must have been tired." Catherine brushed it off. "So, what are your plans? Are you still going?"

Vincent shook his head. "After having experienced it before with you, I do not think I could enjoy it." He gazed at her fondly. "Not by myself knowing you are down here."

"So you're not going Above because of me?" Catherine asked guiltily.

Vincent nodded. "We will do something Below that is equally as intriguing – together."

Catherine firmly shook her head. "No. Absolutely not."

"What?" He was taken aback.

"There is no way we're wasting the most magical night of the year just because I'm pregnant." Catherine said. "That's no excuse."

"What are you talking about?" Vincent asked, genuinely confused. You cannot go Above this year – you are strictly supposed to stay in bed!"

"I'm strictly not supposed to walk around and such." Catherine reminded him. "I haven't gotten off of my butt or out of this bed for months. Do you know what that feels like? Of course you don't. Well, let me tell you. It's a pain and if there is any possible way for me to go Above this Halloween, I'd do it in a flash."

"But how will you get up there without walking?" he asked.

She hesitated. "I probably weigh too much for you to carry…"

"Nonsense." He said. "You could never weigh too much for that, Catherine."

She smiled. Sure, he was just being sweet, but it was also true. He _was_ very strong… "Could you carry me all the way to Central Park?" she asked him.

He nodded. "I think so. I have carried you the same distance before, and I do not think the extra weight will be too much of significance."

"Then it's a date." Catherine said with a smile, settling back into the pillows.

"What?" Vincent asked. "Just like that? Without even talking to Father? Without planning anything? Without-"

"Very spontaneous, don't you think?" Catherine laughed. "Look, you talk to Father and let me make the plans – deal?"

Slowly, Vincent nodded. "I suppose it is. So long as the plans won't exert you any?"

"Not at all." Catherine said. "Though I'm afraid it will exert you."

"Catherine," Vincent said truthfully. "I have been Below for months on end, since before I broke my foot." He motioned to his now healed foot. "Since right after the… the time I spent the day at your apartment." He said. "The extra exercise will be most worth it, and needed."

"Hardly needed." Catherine laughed, trying to imagine what Vincent looked like underneath his cloak, sweater and whatever else he wore under all of that. The day the baby had been conceived, things happened so fast that she barely had the chance to see a thing.

Suddenly Vincent flushed a bit, knowing what she was thinking through what she was feeling. "Er, perhaps I should just-"

"Oh, no – don't go!" Catherine pleaded with him. "There are still some things I'd like to talk about!"

Vincent settled back onto the foot of the bed. "What about?"

"Well, Penelope and I were talking," Catherine said. "And she said-"

"Oh no." Vincent groaned. "What did she say this time?"

"Nothing bad, Vincent." Catherine couldn't help but laugh. "She said that she didn't think most children Below had a middle name – is that true?"

Vincent nodded. "Things are simple down here, Catherine. Second names are just not necessary or common. But if you would like to use one-"

"Oh, I don't care either way." She said quickly. "I was just wondering. Below is its own little world, full of its customs and traditions and… and there are a lot of things I don't know... I wish Meg and her family was coming for Halloween." She said wistfully.

Vincent furrowed his brows, relived for a change of subject. It wouldn't matter if Catherine had been his wife for twenty years and bore him 150 children; he would always hate talking about such things with her, or any woman, for that matter. "Wasn't that the plan? What happened to that?"

Catherine sighed. "Well, talking on the phone is the easiest way to do it, and I haven't been Above in _forever_. I don't even know how her husband took the news. For all I know, the plane crashed on the way to Indiana and she never got home."

Vincent eyed her carefully. "I have every confidence that she did." Vincent said surely. He had little idea of how airplanes worked, as he didn't understand how most things like that worked. But he knew that they were a relatively safe form of travel, and that the odds were that Meg got home safely. And if she hadn't, surely he would have found out by now? Joe would have found out, surely.

"Joe." Vincent said suddenly. He cocked his head. "Is it too late to buy flight tickets to New York for Tuesday?"

Catherine shook her head. "They might be a bit more expensive, but no, it's not too late."

"How much more expensive?" Vincent asked, Catherine's welfare always coming first.

"Does it matter?" Catherine asked, exasperated. "Tell me your plan."

"Well," Vincent said slowly. "Is there any way your cousin and her family could make arrangements to fly in on Tuesday? Or perhaps Monday might be better." He recalled what Father said about flights being emotionally draining, and did he know what _that_ felt like. "Perhaps it is not too late to make plans. Joe could call Meg, and tell her what she needed to know."

Catherine nodded slowly. "That's true. But what could he tell her? 'Go to the airport and buy tickets and fly to New York'? How is he involved?"

"You cannot call Meg." Vincent explained. "And while writing letters may have been a good idea, by the time your letter reached her, it would most likely be Monday, Tuesday, or after. But Joe can call her, can't he? And perhaps he could buy the tickets as well – you could reimburse him." Vincent thought hard. "Would that be too expensive though? Too complicated, perhaps? Unrealistic?"

Catherine threw her arms around him and gave him a tight hug, holding him as tight as her bulging stomach would allow. "You're a genius! But how do we get a hold of Joe?"

Vincent shrugged. "I will find a way, Catherine." He stood up and looked at her carefully. "Are you sure about this? I hate to think that all of this trouble is because of me."

"What trouble?" Catherine asked. "And no, it's not because of you; I'd want Mike to meet the father of my baby anyways." She smiled up at him, still not being able to believe that he was about to father her child.

He nodded. "I will come back soon, hopefully with news. Are there any specific instructions that I should give Joe?"

Catherine nodded. "Tell him that money is no object, to not worry about that. Just get them the safest flight into New York City, preferably on Monday, but Sunday or Tuesday will be all right too. Oh, and remind him to call Meg first." She scribbled Meg's down on a sheet of paper and handed it to Vincent. "Sometimes he gets ahead of himself and does things in the wrong order."

Vincent nodded and left the chamber. He needed to send someone Above to go find Joe. But who? One of the children? No, it was doubtful that they would get to the DA's office and into Joe's office successfully without being stopped by security. And while he had every faith in Mouse, the trip into such a place was not suited to him. Perhaps Kanin wouldn't mind? Sure, he didn't exactly like going Above, especially into law/government offices, but he would do it for Catherine, surely. Or he could go to one of the Helpers that had tunnel entrances in their basements. No, all of them were likely at work, and any Helper that was home did not have an underground tunnel entrance.

"Ah, Vincent." Father stopped his son as they met. "I was just looking for you. What is that piece of paper you've got in your hand?" He peered at the paper curiously, using his glasses to read it clearly. "A phone number? Whose phone number is that? And why do you have it?" he looked at his son curiously.

"It's Meg's." Vincent explained. "Catherine and I are attempting to launch a rather spontaneous plan to have Meg and her family her for Tuesday night."

Father whipped off his glasses and shook his head. "I can only hope that you two aren't making a grave mistake. You two have let more people know about Below in this past year than the last forty years combined!"

"Just Meg and Joe, and soon, Meg's family." Vincent said. "Catherine has good judgment, Father; I doubt that anyone she chooses to let know of our world will betray us."

Father sighed. "Vincent, while I must remind you that I know of your endless love for Catherine, that I understand how you feel about her. And I do know that Catherine may have feelings for you as well, but-"

"'May'? Vincent asked. "'But'?"

"I am still not entirely sure." Father said, putting him hand on Vincent's shoulder. "Just please be careful, and put up your guard." He sighed again, knowing that Vincent did not have much of a guard against unkind words, actions and such, that he was rather vulnerable to emotional hurt. "I do not want to see you get hurt. If something were to happen to you, I do not know what I would do with myself. There have been times when I have honestly wondered if I would ever see your face again, Vincent. And those times have been the most frightening of my life."

Vincent nodded. "I understand, Father. And do not worry; we will be all right." He kissed his Father on the forehead, as a way of saying thank-you for his concern, and then walked confidently forward, set on getting this note to Joe, one way or another.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"Ah, I needed that." Mike grunted gratefully, taking a sip of his hot coffee that Meg had just sat on the table for him. He had been working hard for the past two hours, trying to get all of the seemingly endless paperwork he had to get done. "Thank you." He said.

Meg nodded, somewhat absent-mindedly beginning to wash the dishes. She had not spoken of Below since the night she tried to talk to Mike about it, but it didn't mean that she didn't think about it.

Things had settled down around their residence, sure. The days following her telling Mike of Below and Vincent, she had noticed him watching her extra carefully, but finally seemed satisfied that she was all right, and the seemingly crazy story she told him was all in the past, like a faded flower. Or so he thought. Perhaps she had felt so ready for attention that she thought telling a crazy story would get it from him. He had to be sure to show his love for her more often.

"Mike?" she asked suddenly. "Did you buy the candy that I asked you to?"

"Yep." Mike answered, chewing on the end of his pencil.

"Well," she tapped her foot. "Where is it?"

"It's on the fridge." He said, making a slight motion the white refrigerator that stood in the kitchen.

She pulled the large bags of candy off of the refrigerator, still in their grocery sacks. There were all assortments of chocolate, sweet and sour artificial candy of all colors. You name it, Mike had bought it.

"We got to be careful not to let any of the kids get a hold of this sticky stuff." She wrinkled her nose in distaste. "The last things we need to worry about are dentist appointments and upset stomachs."

"Ah, come on Meg, its Halloween." Mike said. "A bit of candy here and there won't hurt kids. Besides, every kid in America gorges himself on the week after Halloween."

"Not every kid." Meg said, thinking of the children she had met Below. The young boy named Perchik had been so cute! She wouldn't mind having another child, and hopefully a boy.

"Oh yeah?" Mike challenged her with a laugh. "Name one on the face of this earth that doesn't."

"Okay, I surrender." Meg said, not wanting to bring up the fact that Below was real, and that the children Below did not go trick-or-treating, or at least, most did not.

She sighed, going into the living room and relaxing in her chair, picking up the sparkly cloth and needle she had set aside the night before. Tuesday was Halloween, so she only had that night, Saturday, Sunday and Monday nights to finish both of the girl's costumes. She could just buy them, of course, but she liked to be original.

Bailee was going to be an angel. Meg knew she was going to look so pretty, her long black hair cascading down her back, with a little halo attached the her head. The long white gown she had sewn for her was beautiful as well, and the sleeves removed and hemmed a bit shorter, would make a good slip for the next several years. She was just trying to hem it up, so it wouldn't string and unravel all over the place.

She sighed, looking over at the pink sparkly fabric sitting on the couch beside her. Cameryn was going to be Glinda, the good witch of the north. So far, Meg had only cut out the material and pinned it together. She was going to have to find much more time before Tuesday night if that was going to be ready anywhere near Halloween.

She sighed, looking wistfully over at the phone. Maybe she should call Catherine again – no, she wouldn't answer, just like she hadn't since Meg left. She had wished then that she had gotten one of the Helper's phone numbers or at least their names, but didn't. And of course, there was Joe, but she saw the way he looked at her; he was a wonderful, kind, funny, loving, and handsome man, but she was devoted to her husband already, not matter how frustrated he made her. She didn't want to risk anything with Joe, or cause him to think something that wasn't so.

She sat aside her sewing and just leaned back and shut her eyes. Yes, she had plenty of sewing to get done, but now she just needed to rest her eyes.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

_Tap! Tap! Tap, Tap!_ Joe could have sworn he heard tapping sound. _Man, your just dreaming. _He thought, rolling over to go back to sleep, a bit frustrated at the fact that he had been waken up my something as annoying as his usually under active imagination.

_Tap! Tap! Tap, tap! _The noise continued. Joe sighed, shaking his head. That _was_ his imagination, right? He looked over at the clock that sat nearby on his nightstand. It was nearly midnight. It was Friday night, a night where he could get as much sleep as he wanted! Why was he being disturbed by-

There it was again! More persistent tapping. Now Joe was sure that he was fully awake, and he looked towards the direction the tapping seemed to come from. It sounded as if someone was tapping on glass.

It was coming from the front of the house. That was it. Maybe someone was knocking on the door? Joe stumbled out of bed and out of the bedroom, into the front room of the house. The tapping was coming from – the window on the side of the house! He looked over at the window and nearly yelped in surprise. Who was knocking at the door, but a black monster! But then he realized that it was Vincent, a cloak covering his features, covered in the shadows.

Joe motioned towards the front door, knowing Vincent probably wouldn't come through that way. But he had to. And if he didn't, one of Joe's neighbors would probably call the cops.

"Come through the front door." Joe hissed through the window. "No one will see you, or at least well enough to see anything. But if they see you banging on my window, they'll think your a raving lunatic like that guy who-"

Vincent nodded and slipped to the front of the house. Joe went over to the door and unlocked it, still shaking his head, trying wake himself up. What was Vincent doing there? Was he there, or was Joe just dreaming again?

Joe opened the door up, and a chilly blast of New York October air hit him. No, he was definitely awake. "Come in." his said to Vincent, who was standing in the bushes, covered by shadows. "You've gotta be freezing!"

Vincent took a cautious step inside Joe's house and let Joe shut and lock the door behind him. Vincent looked around the room; it was certainly beautiful, as were all of the interiors of the houses he had seen Above. Not too many, to be sure, and Catherine's was the most beautiful. Joe's wasn't, well, beautiful was not the right word. It seemed to have a certain style though, one that seemed to fit Joe's personality and lifestyle, Vincent figured.

He turned to Joe and took a deep breath. "You remember Catherine's cousin, Meg?"

Joe nodded slowly. "The gorgeous blonde that was somewhat responsible for our meeting. Yeah, I remember her."

Vincent heard the word 'gorgeous' but didn't say anything about it; maybe that was just a normal compliment for Above, and it was do big deal. "Well," Vincent produced the scrap of paper with Meg's phone number on it from the inside of his cloak. "This is her telephone number. Catherine was wondering if you could call her and ask her-"

"Why should I call her?" Joe interrupted.

"If you would stop interrupting, I will tell you." Vincent said, inwardly cringing at the fact that he sounded just like Father. "She would like you to call Meg, and ask her if she, her husband, And their two daughters can be ready for a flight that will most likely leave on Monday."

Joe nodded slowly. "Why?"

"We would like Meg's family to come for Halloween." Vincent said. "There is honestly no better for time to introduce her family to me, is there? The children will just assume I am in a costume, and they will just get used to it; hopefully. I will not frighten them at all."

"And what about her husband?" Joe asked, reluctant to bring up the fact that Meg was married.

Vincent sighed. "We have yet to figure that out." He admitted. "He may already know – we are not sure. Catherine has not spoken to Meg since September, since the day Meg left New York City."

Joe nodded, perfectly aware of the fact that Catherine had practically been switched to all-paperwork at the DA's office due to her always being Below. "Well, then what do I do?"

"Well, after you explain to her the reasons we want her to come, and if she agrees, call the airlines." Vincent instruction. "Find out what flights leave Indiana to New York on Monday. Money is not a problem, Catherine says." He hesitated. "You have to pay for the tickets, though Catherine said she will reimburse you."

Joe grimaced. "Of course, she can't reimburse me until next time she goes Above which won't be until at least December-ish? This means I'll be living in the homeless shelter

Vincent shook his head. "You will never have to worry about that." He assured Joe. "And do not worry; Catherine and I will find a way that you are well taken care of before December."

"All right, then what do I do after I get the tickets?" Joe wanted to know.

"Well, after you find out about them you will want to call Meg right back and ask her if those tickets are all right. And then after she says 'yes', call the airlines and purchase the correct tickets and make sure that she gets them. I am not sure how you do that-"

"I'll take care of it." Joe assured Vincent. "And how do I let you know what the deal is?"

"You know you are welcome to our community any time." Vincent reminded Joe. "And also there is Peter; he comes Below every day, so you can pass the message on to him, I suppose."

Joe nodded, studying Vincent carefully. It had been over a month, nearly two months, since he had first met this creature, no – man. It had been nearly two months since he had met the man, and yet, he still couldn't believe it. How could someone like Vincent possibly exist?

"What is it?" Vincent asked softly.

"What?" Joe said. "Oh, nothing. Nothing. I was just, er, um…" Joe wasn't exactly known for his sense of tact, but he knew better than to say 'I still can't believe how freaky you look'.

Vincent put his gloved hand on Joe's shoulder and nodded. "I understand." He looked at Joe carefully. "Are you sure you do not mind?" he referred to the task of getting the plans and plane tickets arranged.

"What? No, no, of course not." Joe said, trying not to look at the beast/man that stood in front of him in awe. It had been weeks and it was still unbelievable. "I'll let you or Catherine know or someone else as soon as I can – I promise."

Vincent nodded and turned to leave. "Um, Vincent?" Joe called after him. "Um... never mind. Good night."

"Goodnight." Vincent answered, disappearing into the darkness and the shadows of the night.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"You looked exhausted." Mike commented concernedly, kneeling down beside his wife who was struggling to keep her eyes open as she stitched the costume for Bailee. "Why don't you call it a night?"

"I can't." Meg said. "I have to have this finished by Tuesday."

"And I'm sure you will." Mike said. "You're a hard worker – but don't ruin your eyes and your beauty sleep! It will still be here tomorrow, and tonight you're liable to make more mistakes."

Meg sighed tiredly. She knew Mike was right. "Just ten more minutes." she told Mike. Then she groaned. "Oh, I sound like a little girl again."

Mike chuckled. "An awfully beautiful little girl. Do you think that maybe-" he was interrupted by the ringing of the phone. "Who could be calling at this time of night?" Mike asked, irritatedly picking up the phone.

"It's only eleven." Meg reminded her husband.

"Hello?" Mike asked. A strange look crossed his face. "Oh, okay." he passed the phone to his wife. "It's a man named Joe Maxwell and he wants to talk to you. Sounds important. Who is Joe Maxwell?"

Concerned, Meg took the phone from Mike. What was the matter with Catherine? Or the baby? Or anyone else? Certainly that's the only reason Joe would call. She didn't even know that he had her phone number.

"Hello?" Meg answered tentatively, dreading any bad news that Joe might bear.

"Hey, Meg, it's Joe." Joe greeted her. "Um, we met in New York. Catherine and I work-"

"Oh, don't worry, I remember who you are." Meg said quickly, noticing the confused look in Mike's eye. "Hold on a minute." she covered the mouthpiece so she could explain to Mike. "It is a friend of Catherine's." At his nod, Meg turned back to the phone. "Okay, I'm back. Is something wrong, Joe?"

"No." Was Joe's reply.

"Well, what's wrong then? Why hasn't she called me? Why-"Meg started to spurt out questions.

"There was a bit of bleeding, so Vincent's old man put her on bed rest." Joe explained. "Bed rest down Below, so she hasn't been able to call. But she's fine; happy and healthy, and as far as I know, the baby is fine too."

"Bleeding?" Meg asked, terrified about Catherine maybe losing the baby.

"It quit long ago." Joe assured her. "Sometimes a bit of bleeding happens for no reason, or because of stress or shock, says so Vincent's Dad and his friend, Peter. But bed rest just to be on the safe side."

Meg gave a sigh of relief." Whew, thank God – how long ago did that happen?"

"Not long after you left." Joe told Meg. "But that's not why I called; Vincent just stopped by and asked me to call you ASAP. He was wondering what you guys are doing this week, specifically Tuesday."

"Vincent wanted to know? Why?" Meg asked, curious.

_Oh no, _Mike thought worriedly, recalling the horribly strange conversation he had had with Meg when Meg first came back from Catherine. She had mentioned some beast-like man named Vincent. He had thought she was just tired, and had forgotten about it or something the next day, because of course she couldn't actually believe that such a thing existed. But apparently, she hadn't forgotten – and she still believed.

"Oh, well, I don't think we're doing anything special." Meg said next, glancing at her husband. "Aside from taking the girls trick-or-treating… but a change in events is fine, I think…"

Jo was obviously speaking, because Meg was quiet, listening.

_What's going on here? _Mike wondered. _What does this Joe want with Meg? What about Tuesday? does this Joe want with Meg? What about Tuesday?_

"Oh, well, I'll have to talk to Mike about it." She paused, while Joe obviously said something. "Mike is my husband, remember? I'm married."

She laughed about something Joe obviously said before going on. "But as soon as we can, I'll call you right back. I think your right; a flight on Monday would be better, especially for the girls. The flight being so stressing and all, they'll be too exhausted to actually enjoy the night. All right, Joe – you're an angel. Talk to you later; tell Catherine and Vincent I love them, 'bye." That said, she hung up the phone and turned to Mike, who was waiting inquisitive looking, and very confused.

"What was that all about?" Mike asked, his confusion clearly showing. "Are there any plans I don't know about?"

Meg nodded. "There might be. Catherine wants to know if we can go to New York for Halloween. She wants to see the girls and the girls… well… she's offering to pay for our flight, and letting us use her apartment, but we need to let her know as soon as possible, so she can buy tickets and such."

Mike nodded slowly. "And why couldn't she call?"

"Apparently she's had some problems, so she's been put on bed rest." Meg explained, not going in-depth of the situation because she simply didn't know any details. "So she's been Below."

"Below?" Mike questioned, remembering their strange conversation; the one they had some months ago, a knot growing in his stomach.

Meg nodded. "Below. Tunnels under the streets on New York City. Where Vincent is from. Remember, we had this conversation some time ago?" she held her breath, anticipating what Mike would say next. Would he not remember? If he did, what did he think? Did he think she was crazy?

Mike took a deep breath, before nodding slowly. Very slowly. He then looked up, meeting his wife's eyes. "I don't remember much of the details." He said finally. "Can you explain everything again?"

As Meg launched into her description of Below, of Vincent, and of the Tunnel dwellers, she wondered why Mike was so willing to listen now. He wasn't trying to listen and then give her some kind of therapy like he did his patients, was he?

Mike listened closely. He had thought his wife was crazy, but an inkling feeling told him that that wasn't so. Meg had always appeared to be in her right mind before, and now that there was this phone call… maybe, she had something there. Maybe there was something he didn't know. Well, listening to her talk and then talking a bit on the phone himself certainly couldn't hurt.


	28. Chapter 28

27

**A/N: You may have noticed a bit of alarm on my part lately. And thats easily explainable. I hate hiding the truth, lying, etc., so I'm just going to be honest with you. The odds of someone 'stealing' 'my' idea for this story are very good. Of course, maybe one doesn't intend to 'steal' my idea, and of course I don't own these ideas, even though they are pretty original... but please, if you see ANYTHING done in this story that has never been done in a BaTB story as far as you know, and you'd like to put something similar in your story, PLEASE ASK ME first! I know this sounds like a selfish, possessive, insecure little brat here, but as a writer, I work hard, and hate to see the uncreative people copying my work. So please, beware. And if it continues to happen, well, I'm going to be obnoxious about this one, but I KNOW people! I have CONNECTIONS with people that you probably don't want thinking about you as uncreative, lazy, copy-cat-ish, etc. I know that sounds mean and obnoxious, but no need to feel uncomfortable. No one has used my ideas for this story yet, knowingly. But I have seen some things unfold. So just 'ye be warned' for the future...**

"Catherine, calm down, _please_." Vincent begged the woman sitting in front of him. "I cannot bear it!"

Catherine shook her head excitedly. "I can't – I'm too excited."

Vincent sighed. It was now Sunday evening, and Meg's family was due in New York the next morning. Apparently, Joe had talked to Meg's husband, and things were understood and straightened out, so they were coming. And apparently, Mike believed the 'story' of Below and of Vincent. And while it was all very good, and of course, it would be nice to see Meg again, and meet her husband and children, Vincent didn't understand why Catherine was as excited as she was. It was exhausting him, though.

Catherine sighed, restless. "I'm tired of this stupid old bed!" she complained.

Vincent took her hand, sympathetically. "I know."

"Don't you think Father is overreacting just a bit?" Catherine complained more. "Plenty of women have had a bit of bleeding during their pregnancy – big whoop. I'm okay, and the baby is okay, so why exactly am I in this bed again?"

Vincent wasn't sure if pregnancy affected one's common sense like it did one's hormones, but it certainly seemed like it. Lately Catherine had been doing and saying things a bit irrational, and well, 'common sense' hadn't exactly been describing words for him lately.

"It will not hurt you or the baby." Vincent found himself answering her. "And to be on the safe side… December is in a month, nearly, but we are not even halfway through; so much is still unpredictable."

Catherine sighed again. "I hate being pregnant." She said flatly.

Vincent chuckled, tempted to say that he hated it when she was pregnant as well, but he thought better of it. "Have you thought up any names yet?" he asked. "It seems Maria and you spend every afternoon pouring over those baby name books."

Catherine shook her head. "I don't like ordinary names, like 'John' or 'Adam', but I don't like unusual ones like… like the ones with fifty-six difference letters and thirty different ways to pronounce it."

Vincent nodded. "Well, then what sort of names are you looking for?"

"I don't know." Catherine said. "Take the name 'Catherine'; that's too ordinary. But take the name 'Mouse'; who names their kid Mouse?"

"Well, wherever Mouse came from, I hardly believe he was called 'Mouse'." Vincent reminded Catherine.

It's just an example!" Catherine said, exasperated. "And then names like 'Jacob', no offense to Father, are so overused, but who uses 'Esau'? I want something a bit mediocre, like… well, like 'Vincent'. Everyone knows it, but hardly anyone names their kid that. Or 'Victor', for example, or 'Isaac'. Heck, even 'Devin' isn't used half as much as some of the names out there!"

Vincent nodded, understanding what she was saying. "Well, your cousin's children have names like that, don't they? Those particular names aren't very popular, are they?"

Catherine made a face. "Well, don't tell Meg this, but I hate her choice in names. ' Bailee' and 'Cameryn' are both boy names, just spelled differently."

Vincent pondered a moment. "Correct me if I am wrong, but aren't a lot of names being used for boys and girls now? Take 'Ashley'; I've heard about quite a few girls named that."

Catherine shrugged. "Details, details. Anyways, I wish the name was already decided. The sooner we decide it, the better."

Vincent shook his head. "Have you ever considered waiting until the baby is born?" he asked her. "We can base the name off of the baby's personality, or something like that. We will have until the naming ceremony."

Catherine sighed. "I guess its just one of those things I want to have figured out ahead of time."

"You will have figured it out by then, I am sure." Vincent assured her. He changed the subject. "Do you feel ready?"

"To have a baby? No." Catherine couldn't help but scoff. "I can't just seem to feel prepared at all. I'm not prepared at all! I twisted my stupid ankle before I got to buy anything for the baby, or equipment for the baby, or anything on having babies, or anything like that! All I've got are a couple of neutral raggedy things from Mary that are probably a million years old!"

Vincent chuckled. "No child died from neutral rags. And as for equipment," he smiled at her. "Father was kind enough to let us have Devin's, and later my, cradle. And I think Mouse is fashioning a very… unique looking rocking chair."

Catherine couldn't help but laugh at the idea of what the rocking chair looked liked. Everything Mouse made always managed to look interesting. "I guess we'll manage with or without." She said. She gazed fondly at Vincent. "You're going to make a great father."

Vincent lowered his eyes, hardly knowing what to say to that.

"You are." Catherine insisted, very sure of herself. "The best _ever_."

"I hope so." Vincent answered, reaching out and grasping Catherine's hand.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"Ever tell you how much I hate flying?" Mike muttered as he and Meg boarded the plane with their daughters, Bailee and Cameron.

"Oh, you're so old-fashioned!" Meg laughed, swinging Cameron up on her hip. "We'll be there in a couple hours and then you won't have to fly again until Friday night, when we leave."

Mike shook his head as they sat down. "I'm still having a hard time buying the whole idea of-"

"Not too loud!" Meg hushed her husband, looking cautiously around at the other passengers around him. "Someone will hear you!"

"As I was saying," Mike cleared his throat. "I am still having a hard time buying the idea of everything you've told me."

"Well, it's true." Meg said. "And you talked to Joe too, and he told you the same thing."

Mike shook his head. "And how do I know that you're all not a bunch of crazies?"

"You don't." Meg said firmly. "Now shut up and look out the window." She smiled as she pulled out a crossword puzzle to work on. The next couple days were going to be interesting.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"Mommy, where are we?" Bailee looked up in wonderment at her mother. They were standing outside the airport, trying to hail a taxi.

"In New York." Meg said while sighing in frustration as yet another cab drove by without stopping.

"Why are we there?" Bailee asked next.

Mike looked down at his young daughter. "To visit Aunt Catherine and… and the rest of her family."

"But what about trick-or-treating?" She began to wail.

"Hush now," Meg gently scolded her daughter. "You're still going to have fun, and get lots of candy; don't worry."

Mike leaned over to his wife. "And what makes you so sure that the girls won't scream at the sight of what's-his-name… Vincent?"

"I'm sure because I know kids and apparently so do Catherine and Vincent. They aren't so worried about the girls meeting Vincent. The only one who has really any worries at all on the matter, I think, is Vincent, and that is the matter of him meeting you. He's scared to death you'll do something stupid like shoot him or call 9-1-1 or something."

Mike scoffed. "Why would I? Does he deserve to be locked up in prison or something?"

"No, but most people would anyway." Meg said, a cab finally slowing down to a stop for them. She opened the door and got in, Cameryn still on her hip, and slid over so that Mike and Bailee could get in. She gave the driver Catherine's address, and the driver pulled away.

"Dammit." Mike muttered at the taxi almost immediately had to stop in some sort of mini-traffic jam.

Meg sighed. "How many times do I have to ask you not to swear in front of the kids?"

"That's not swearing." Mike retorted. "And you can't be so thrilled about being stuck in traffic yourself."

"It's not traffic; it's moving!" Meg pointed out. "Traffic is something you're stuck in for hours, hardly moving at all, and when you do, only inches at a time! It's called New York City – get used to it."

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"This is Catherine's apartment building?" Joe asked, impressed, as the cab pulled up to the complex Catherine lived at. "It's huge!"

"She lives in an apartment, not the whole building." Meg reminded him, stepping out of the cab and swinging Cameryn back up on her hip. She paid the cabbie and then headed inside the building, Mike and Bailee following on her hip.

She knew she was being rather short with Mike, but she couldn't help it. For the past few days, he had been growing more and more annoying, and the fact that she had just spent hours with two screaming kids on an airplane didn't help her mood at all. She knew that Mike had to be tired and irritated as well, but she didn't think about that too much.

They walked inside the building, the doorman holding the door open for them with a smile on his face. "Meg! It's so nice to see you again!" his eyebrows furrowed. "You are aware that Catherine is on vacation?"

Meg nodded. "Yeah, I know. I'm meeting a friend. And its good to see you too!" she smiled at him and then headed over to the elevator. She wasn't about to try the stairs with the two girls.

"Seems you got to know lots of men in New York." Mike muttered as they pressed the UP button on the elevator. By some miracle, they were the only people on the elevator.

"Oh, come on." Meg scoffed. "The doorman is probably sixty. He was just being friendly."

"And this Joe?" Mike questioned.

"He's just a friend!" Meg exclaimed with growing frustration. Not that she wasn't used to Mike acting this way; it seemed that he had always been a bit overprotective of what he considered 'his turf'. It was really annoying, and Meg certainly didn't have the patience for it that day.

Stepping out of the elevator, they went over to the door of Catherine's apartment. No one else was in sight.

"And how are we supposed to get in?" Mike asked.

"Joe is supposed to meet us here with the key." Meg explained. She gave Mike a sidelong glance. "And don't say anything stupid."

"Of course." Mike rolled his eyes. "We wouldn't want to fail to impress him."

"It's not that!" Meg exclaimed. Usually Mike never went to such extremes as he was today. Was it the long plane ride or something else? Suddenly her eyes widened. "Wait a minute, what did Joe say to you?"

"Nothing you don't already know." Mike said nonchalantly.

"Oh, come on!" Meg said irritated. "He told you of the setting of when I told him about the Tunnels and Vincent, didn't he?"

"Well, jeez Meg, you could have done something more respectable." Mike pointed out. "I mean, a date?"

"It wasn't a date!" Meg rolled her eyes. "At least not that kind of date – and you know it! Just because I was being nice to him doesn't mean… you know you're still my number one, don't you?"

"Sometimes I wonder." Mike huffed. "And the fact that you told him about the Tunnels only days after you met him. You didn't tell me for months."

"I _tried_ to tell you almost as soon as I got home, but you didn't believe me!" Meg exclaimed. "And I was telling him after Catherine requested. And yes, sometimes I might speak to another man. Get over it."

Suddenly she realized that the two girls were listening to them. They more than likely didn't comprehend what their parents were talking about, but they knew that they were arguing. Both girls had their eyes opened wide in fear, as most all children react to their parents in heated discussion.

"I should have known that letting you go to New York was the stupidest thing I could have ever let you do!" Mike exclaimed, his voice raising.

"Mike hush." She hushed him, glancing around the hall, hoping no one else was there. Luckily, there wasn't, only their daughters. "You're scaring the girls. We'll talk about this later."

Mike sighed, knowing Meg was right, but he wasn't about to admit it. "Well, you should have thought of the girls in the first place when you first met this Joe-figure!"

Before Meg could open her mouth, the elevator door opened and a breathless Joe came running out. His hair was disheveled, his tie messed up, and he was completely out of breath. Meg couldn't help but smile at him.

"Joe!" she said, reaching her arms around his shoulders in a hug. It was only after the embrace was finished that she was aware that her overzealous husband was watching with jealous eyes.

"Sorry I'm late." Joe tried to catch his breath. "Was busy. Couldn't catch a cab. Ran all the way here."

Meg laughed. "Joe, that's like, a million blocks away! Like, all the way in Japan!" she laughed again. "And careful with all of those fragmented sentences – you're beginning to sound like Mouse."

Joe couldn't help but laugh at that, because it was true. He suddenly realized Mike was in the room. "Hi, I'm Joe Maxwell." He offered his hand to the other man.

"Really? I didn't notice." Mike said coolly, not offering his hand in return. If there had been a rug on the floor, Meg would have happily crawled under it in embarrassment at her husband's attitude. But luckily, good old Joe didn't miss a beat.

He got down on a knee, so to match Bailee's height. He offered his hand to her. "And you must be Bailee, Meg's daughter, right?"

Bailee nodded shyly, slinking behind her father's leg. "But no, you couldn't be!" Joe continued. "Meg told me all about a little girl, and you're at least a foot taller than the girl she described. How old are you, sixteen?"

The girl giggled. Meg couldn't help but smile at Joe's playfulness. He reminded her of the way Mike used to be. Bailee shook her head 'no' at Joe's question.

"Oh. Then your ten?" Joe asked next.

"Six!" the petite girl busted out in giggles.

"You're six!" Joe asked, pretending to be astonished. "Well, you're practically a lady!" he shook her hand. "It's very nice to meet you, Bailee. I'm Joe."

He stood up and shook Cameryn's little hand, who was sitting in Meg's arms, staring in wonderment. "And you must be Cameryn. It's nice to meet you too." He laughed.

Meg laughed too, but was interrupted by Mike clearing his throat impatiently and irritated. "And the key?" he asked.

"Oh, right." Joe began to fish through his pockets. "Oh, shoot. I know Catherine gave it to me… where did I put that?" Finally, he produced it from his shirt pocket. "Oh, there it is." He handed it to Mike. "There you go."

"Good." Mike stuck it in the keyhole and pushed the door open.

"Your welcome." Joe muttered under his breath, surprised at the man's abrupt rudeness.

"Thank you so much, Joe." Meg said honestly. "You're a lifesaver."

"Can I be a red one?" Joe asked playfully.

"Come on, Meg." Mike said impatiently, already inside the apartment. "Let's go."

Meg sighed. "I'll see you later?"

Joe nodded. "Tomorrow night, Below." He said, referring to the children's Halloween party. And after saying that he left.

Meg sighed again, entering the apartment. The next few days were going to be long ones.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"Well, are they here?" Catherine busted with questions as soon as Vincent entered the baby's chamber with Joe. "They brought Bailee and Cameryn, right? They are at the apartment? How are they? Does-"

"Catherine," Vincent interrupted her gently. "Joe is here to tell us." He turned to the dark-haired man beside him. "Joe?"

"Well," Joe cleared his throat. "I was running a little late, but they were standing outside your door as planned. Um, her husband seems… interesting – I don't think he's happy and I don't think he wants to be here. Or maybe it was just the long flight. He doesn't like me, for sure. Anyways, yeah, they had the kids. Cute little kids, by the way. And we're still on for tomorrow night?"

Catherine nodded. "Yes, we are."

Vincent turned to Joe. "What makes you think Mike does not like you?" he asked his new friend.

Joe shrugged. "Um, besides being short with me and having such a cold attitude towards me, nothing."

"You're probably right." Catherine assured Joe. "They just have had a long day. Imagine flying halfway across North America with two kids under the age of ten? It must have been stressing."

Vincent nodded in agreement. "Children can oftentimes wear one down." He told Joe. "I am sure you two will get along famously tomorrow evening."

Joe nodded. "Actually, I'm more worried about how you and he will get along. I don't have to have a long-lasting relationship with him – you do."

"We've been over it a thousand times." Catherine broke in; the last thing she wanted was for Vincent to have some sort of nervous breakdown at the thought of Mike blowing the secret of Below or something of the like. "And even if Mike does not like Vincent, which is practically impossible, he'd keep Below and Vincent a secret, I'm sure." She couldn't imagine someone not warming up to Vincent right away.

"Well, we'll see." Joe sighed. "Anyways, if you see that Peter friend of yours, tell him 'thanks'. Those plane tickets cost a pretty penny and if he hadn't reimbursed me, I'd be forced to move down here. Why? Because it has a big invisible sign hanging in the doorway that says 'if your homeless come here'."

Catherine and Vincent both laughed together. "Well, know that if you ever need anything, do not hesitate to ask." Vincent told Joe. "Anything at all. You are very important to us, and we are forever indebted to you for your kindness and generosity."

"And acceptance." Catherine put in. "Thanks a million, Joe."

Joe nodded, clearing his throat uncomfortably. He wasn't used to such… poetic and sincere thanks, he guessed it was. "Well, um, speaking of needing stuff, does anyone need anything down here? Especially for tomorrow?"

Vincent looked at Catherine. "I do not believe so." Vincent said slowly, trying to think up anything that they needed for could use for the party.

"Um, Joe?" Catherine said suddenly. "Remember what we talked about the other day? Don't forget."

"I won't." Joe said solemnly, winking at Catherine.

Vincent immediately grew suspicious. "What is it?" he asked.

"Oh, nothing." Catherine laughed. "Go away, Joe."

Joe laughed. "See ya later, Kiddo. You too, Vincent." He left the chamber, still laughing over the obvious secret between him and Catherine.

Vincent turned to Catherine, who was trying to keep her giggles hidden, but it was proving impossible. "What is it?" he asked again. "Have you and Joe a secret?"

"More or less." Catherine laughed. "Don't worry; you'll love it."

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"Where is Catherine anyways?" Mike asked, peering into the refrigerator. "Doesn't she keep any food in here?"

"I think Joe stopped by one day and cleaned out the fridge." Came Meg's reply. "It does no good for it to mold in there, since she's Below? Remember? She had some bleeding, which put Father, Peter and Vincent on the brink of paranoia."

"Well, that happens sometimes, no big deal." Mike referred to the bleeding.

"Better safe than sorry, and with this baby, the rule applies even more." Meg explained. "You'll see."

"Maybe I will, maybe I won't." Mike muttered.

"And what's that talk supposed to mean?" Meg put her hands on her hips.

"It means I don't have to go crawling under ground at your request, do I?" Mike challenged her.

"Oh, right. So you'd rather be in Indiana now, talking to some whacked-out patient."

"They aren't 'whacked-out'!" Mike defended his patients. "'Troubled'. And what are we going to eat for supper?"

"I'll call and order pizza." Meg sighed, going over to the phone, picking it up and dialing. How come it seemed that as time went on, the more and more unsatisfied she and Mike became with each other. Especially these past couple months, there had been this extreme, but yet silent tension. Why couldn't they just be like Catherine and Vincent, who had every problem in the world, everything to be worried about, but just smiled and clung to each other, in love? She shook her head. It seemed so impossible. Sure, she loved Mike, but sometimes she got the feeling that he didn't love her as much as he used to. And she wasn't trying to compare Mike's love for her to Vincent's love for Catherine; that was incomparable. One might as well compare Romeo's love for Juliet – it seemed fictional enough. But sometimes, Meg couldn't help but wonder why life couldn't be a fairy tale. It seemed, for sure, that Catherine's was.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

Vincent rubbed his brow frustratingly. He hadn't played a game of checkers this intense in ten years. He looked up at Catherine, who was smiling satisfactorily. Normally when she smiled like that, Vincent couldn't help but look upon her as an angel. But with the way she was winning the game, a game that he was the pronounced professional at, he felt more inclined to think of her as a demon instead.

"Is something wrong, beloved?" She asked him, stifling a laugh.

Vincent's heart felt like it could have jumped out of his chest at hearing her words. Beloved? Sure, she was just teasing him, but she really did consider him her beloved, that was certain, and that thought made shivers go up Vincent spine.

"Nothing at all, my dear." Vincent managed to reply, returning his gaze to the checker board. It seemed that no matter where he moved his black checkers, one of Catherine's red ones could jump his.

"Then what's taking you so long?" Catherine persisted, thumping her head against the headboard dramatically.

"I… I just do not want to be forced into making a hasty decision." Vincent thought up an excuse, lame as it was.

"Right." Catherine rolled her eyes. "Just hurry up and move."

Vincent took a deep breath and moved a single checker to be jumped, unless his Catherine would have a bit of mercy on him, something he knew she wouldn't just then.

Catherine looked up at him, stunned, once he had taken his finger off of the checker. "That's it?"

Vincent nodded. "Yes."

Her mouth hung open. "It took you twenty minutes to decide to move that one checker?"

"Would you like me to take it back?" Vincent offered.

Catherine scoffed. "Not a chance." And that said, she picked up one checker and commenced to jump not only one, but all of his checkers, save one. She laughed gleefully as she scooped up his checkers.

Vincent stared at her astounded. "Did you just-"

"Yes I did." Catherine laughed.

"Well," Vincent said a bit smugly. "That's only because you _forced_ me to make a hasty decision." He moved his single checker that, luckily, was now in no danger of being jumped. "Your turn." He told her.

Catherine moved her checker onto his side of the board. "King me, dude!" she exclaimed happily. Saying that had been her, as well as her friend's habits for as long as they could remember.

He stared at her blankly, amused. "'Dude'?"

"Oops, I mean, um, just king me." She faltered. "I'm sorry. I forgot that you probably couldn't understand. Sorry, just king me."

Vincent lightly placed a checker on top of hers and then began to study the options he had with his single checker. "I will king you, but just to let you know, it frustrates me to know that you think I have no understanding of the modern idioms of speech."

"Sorry." Catherine couldn't help but laugh. "But I hardly think you read the word in your fine literature, and no offense meant, but where else would you hear it?"

"Umm… people?" Vincent reminded her. "I got Above quite often, or at least I used to, and the children Below, especially the adolescents, use that word a lot, and have for as long as I can remember. Along with 'cool', 'hip', 'awesome', et cetera. As a matter of fact," he moved his checker thoughtfully, "most of those words are words the started to use when I was a child."

"You were born in '52, right?" Catherine asked.

"Presumably so." Vincent answered, waiting on her move.

"So you lived through most of the fifties. Ever call Father 'Daddy-O'?" she couldn't help but crack the joke.

Vincent shook his head. "Can't say that I did. Other children called their fathers that, of course, but I don't know… it seemed a bit unfitting for Father and a bit disrespecting to Father at that. Still does now, only even more so."

Catherine nodded. "I can see what you mean. So, we haven't talked about this in a while; what will they baby call you?" she moved one of her numerous checkers.

"What choices do we have?" Vincent studied the board carefully, trying to figure out how he could avoid losing the game with just one checker left.

"Plenty." Catherine leaned back against the headboard, being careful not to disrupt the board that was balancing on the bedspread. "'Father', of course, 'Daddy', 'Dad', 'Papa', 'Pa' and those are just for starters."

Vincent shook his head. "Seems to me that it does not really matter."

"It should!" Catherine exclaimed. "I'm not the one who is going to be called that for the rest of my life and its important to me! If you think about it carefully enough, 'Father' shouldn't hurt. They'd probably call Father 'Grandfather' or Granddad' or something of the like anyhow."

Vincent shook his head. "Somehow I think that the only thing Father will agree with is 'Grandfather'. Everything else is a bit to undignified, not fitting, and certainly not British enough."

Catherine laughed, for Vincent was right. He knew his Father well. "Well, it shouldn't get too confusing." She said. "Sure, once the baby is no longer a baby, if he bursts into a chamber filled with people and calls 'Father!' then it'll get confusing, but if he says 'where is my father', then-"

"We'll survive somehow." Vincent reluctantly moved his checker, knowing he'd get jumped by Catherine.

Catherine hesitated. "Shall I do it quick like a band aid or shall I postpone the agony?"

Vincent groaned, going along with Catherine's playfulness. "I can't watch."

Catherine jumped his checker. "Game over." She said, satisfied, and quite pleased with herself that she had won, even though she knew no one Below would believe it, since Vincent had had the claim to fame of a ten year winning streak.

"Indeed." Vincent said, stretching back on the bed, lying horizontal over the foot of the bed, his long legs dangling way off the bed. He shut his eyes.

Catherine crawled over to him and affectionately pulled a lock of his textured red-blonde mane. "Hey, you." She said. "You sleepy?"

He opened one eye. "Perhaps."

"Need to go to bed?" she asked next.

"Perhaps." He said again.

"Are you ticklish?" she asked him next.

"Per- what'd you say?" He opened both eyes in alarm.

She began tickling him, first on the belly, then on the chest, then his neck, everywhere where a person normally was ticklish. And he started laughing – he started laughing, which was rare for him, and laughing in such a way she had never heard before, hysterically and uncontrollably.

Gently he tired to push her away, but didn't try too hard. He knew that he could hurt her so easily, though unintentionally. He tried to endure all he could, but finally couldn't take it anymore. He swung his legs over his head and landed on his feet. He quickly grabbed a hold of Catherine and gently began tickling her, being careful to keep his claws out of scratching danger, and careful not to tickle her belly; he couldn't risk anything happening to the baby.

"You finished?" he asked her with a laugh as she laughed, unable to get away from his grasp. "Are you finished? Are you?"

"Yes! Yes!" she gasped for breath while still laughing. Vincent released her and sat back down on the foot of the bed.

"Wow." Catherine said, still laughing and gasping her breath, trying to wipe away a tear of laughter. "That was fun."

"It was." Vincent agreed. He eyed the checker board on the bed, its pieces now strewn all over the chamber. "Unfortunately, we now have a mess on our hands."

"A mess well worth it, don't you think?" Catherine helped by picking up the pieces that were lying on the bed, while Vincent crawled about the floor picking up the other pieces.

"Most definitely." He agreed, putting the loose pieces in a navy cloth bag that he kept them in.

"So, are you excited?" Catherine asked him.

"About what?" He asked.

She rolled her eyes. "You know what, and it's not a what, it's a who; are you excited about the baby? Now that it's getting closer…"

"I'm not sure 'excited' is the appropriate word to use." Vincent said. "Although that is pretty close."

"Well then, what is the appropriate word?" Catherine asked

Vincent thought. "Father has been giving me a new vocabulary word to learn every day since I was a small child, and yet, I have yet to learn a word that means 'paranoid, scared, excited, apprehensive, happy, thrilled, guilty and more'."

Catherine made a 'tsk' sound. "Come on, Vincent, certainly you can narrow that down to 'scared and excited' can't you?"

Vincent shook his head. "I'm afraid that in this case, all of these words have various and different meanings. So what about you? Are you excited?"

She nodded her head. "Yes, and scared, like you." _But not half as much_, she thought, but she didn't add it. He didn't need that kind of put-down and besides, in a way, he had a right to feel that way he did. Sure, she was huge with a baby inside of her that might very well have fangs in claws, but she at least wasn't being faced with the knowledge that however the baby was, it was her fault, and most of the baby's problems being her fault, et cetera. And also, she knew that Vincent was also concerned for her sake. Lest anything happen to her… she didn't want to think about it.

Vincent didn't even have to check his pocket watch to know it was late. "It's getting late. You should be getting some sleep."

"And what about you?" she asked him. "Or do you macho-men not need sleep?"

He chuckled. "I'll be getting some rest too, if it helps you any."

"It does." Catherine said, allowing Vincent to tuck her in. "Promise you'll get some sleep and not spend the whole night worrying about me?"

"I promise." Vincent said, giving her a light kiss on the forehead. He extinguished all of the candles save one. "Is that fine?"

"Can you blow out all the candles?" Catherine asked.

"It will be dark." Vincent warned her. "You will not be able to see your hand in front of your face."

"Good." Catherine said, snuggling under the covers. "I don't need to see my hand in front of my face."

Vincent blew out the light. Indeed, it was very dark. The only light at all was from the corridor, and most of that was blocked out by the curtain. "Is this fine?" he asked her uncertainly.

"Yes." She said. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight." He turned and left the chamber, but paused outside, listening, to make sure she was fine. And once he was sure that she was, he proceeded to his chamber.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

Father looked up from the book he was reading to the large grandfather clock on the wall. It was past midnight. He groaned, stretching his legs. _I'm getting too old for this_, he thought as he grabbed his cane to help him stand up.

He hobbled out his chamber and down the long corridor. For forty years, ever since Devin had been born, Father had made a habit of going to his son's chamber to check before going to bed. To check if either of his son's had any problems, hopefully not with each other as they normally did, to check if they were in their beds at all. Devin had a habit of sneaking Above whenever he got the chance and Vincent, the habit of trying to play with his toys, even though he knew he had to go to sleep.

Father chuckled at the memory. Sure, the two boys hadn't even known that they were brothers at he time, but they certainly acted like it. Vincent had tried to copy every move Devin made, and of course, Devin made out to be a very poor role model, and yet, they both turned out, well, all right. Both wonderful children, to be sure, but Father still couldn't help but have his doubts about Devin. The child had an independence streak a mile long, just like his mother.

_They aren't children anymore! _Father chided himself as he rounded a corner. _You need to stop thinking of them as children!_ But then again, they were his children, and he had a strong feeling that he would never stop thinking of them that way, nor would he stop being so protective.

He stopped and attempted to catch his breath, regretting whatever impulse had made him decide to put Devin and Vincent's chamber on the far other side of the community. Hadn't he realized that when he was an old man, that he would have a devil of a time walking the distance? Well, at least he could be grateful Devin had long since left; he wouldn't have to waste his time and energy tracking him down, and if Vincent wasn't in his chamber, he was usually in the baby's chamber or not too far away, at least.

He poked his head in Vincent's chamber; it was dark, save the one big fat candle Vincent always kept lit. Keeping a candle lit was something he and Devin had had their quarrels about; Devin had always wanted the room to be pitch black, and Vincent, who as a child, was often afraid of the dark, wanted the candle lit. Vincent always won out, of course, since no one ever died from having a small light in their room when they went to sleep, and Devin would certainly get over it. Father couldn't help but wish now that he had made it a bit fairer on Devin's part, or at least talked to him about it. He had tried to hold Devin at an arm's length Devin's entire childhood, so there wouldn't appear to be favoritism. And in the end, Father was too hard on him, and Devin ran away from home, only coming back two or three times since. If only Father had treated him, better…

Father peered over to the bed that sat in the left hand corner of the room. Sure enough, there his youngest son laid, asleep.

Father breathed a sigh of relief. At least there would be no tracking anyone down that night. He shuffled over closer to the bed to study his son's face. Yes, Vincent was definitely asleep. His eyes were closed, and his breathing even.

Father reached out and flicked a strand of mane out of Vincent's closed eyes, and then carefully sat down on the upper end of the bed. He needed a breather before he headed back to his chamber. He turned his attention to Vincent, who was sleeping soundly. Father couldn't help but chuckle and shake his head, marveling at the being that lay next to him.

It had been nearly thirty-eight years, and Father still couldn't understand; how was it that out of all the people in the world, he was the one that wound up with Vincent? The most wonderful, horrible, good, evil, beautiful, ugly person, dare he say person, in the world? Not that he regretted being the one to be responsible for him; no, he was thankful. Had Vincent never come long, God alone only knew where Father and the rest of the Tunnel dwellers would be.

_I pity the person who sat him down in the dumpster. _Father thought, moving another strand of mane that had fallen into Vincent's eyes. _Had they known he would grow to be a fine, loving, caring, gracious child, and then a man, would they still have abandoned him? Or did they know? How could they have known? But then again, how could they have been responsible for his creation or birth? Perhaps we'll never know. Perhaps I do not ant to know – if I knew how he came to be, then I would obviously have some sort of connection with his parents and I could not bear it if Vincent used the term 'Father' on anyone else, or any other term that meant the same thing on anyone else. I know it sounds selfish, but it would be the most unjust thing in the world._

He shook his head. Why was he worried about it? Vincent's parents or creators or whoever they were had failed to make any appearance or search for their son in the entire thirty-seven, almost thirty-eight years. Father had his doubts that they'd start now.

_But it would be nice to know before the baby comes. _Father reasoned, looking back down at his son, noting the fangs that barely peeked out of his closed mouth, and the claws that grew sharply on his fingertips. _It would be nice to know how Vincent came about, whether it is genetic or not, and all of that before the baby comes. I am so tired of having to expect the unexpected. First, Vincent goes mad. And then, I find that Catherine is pregnant, and have to del with Vincent's crazy emotional states and her crazy emotional states, and their arguments, and more, while, simultaneously, I am trying to mend my son in every way possible, because he keeps getting careless. Then I have to oversee Catherine's bringing not only one, but two total strangers out of her, which brings my son into a somewhat paranoid state. And then, just as that is calming down, the planning for the annual Halloween party begins. Have I left anything out? Oh, yes, I left out Catherine's going missing, broken ankle, and then bleeding, and I am certain I've missed something else. And that is just counting the events that took place between Catherine and Vincent. Everyone else seems to be out to make my life crazy as well. What was Mouse thinking? He literally had pounds of baking soda and vinegar that he got from who knows where, and mixed them together in his chamber to 'see what happens'. Well, cleaning up that disaster from not only his chamber, but his end of the corridor and anyone else's chamber that is nearby should take hi long enough, hopefully keeping him out of trouble. Oh, it would be so nice to be able to expect the expected, or not even having to expect anything at all!_

Father stiffly stood up and bent down just as stiffly to gently kiss Vincent brow. And then he went back into the corridor, quickly poking his head into the baby's chamber to make sure that Catherine was sound asleep. She was, so he turned and went back to his chamber, hoping for a goodnight's rest himself.


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N: Thanks to Yva J. for your helpfulness. I cannot believe how many typos I have!**

**And special thanks to Amber-Jade, MiniLibrian, and Earth Guardian. You guys have been reading through the beginning, and have stayed on faithful – you rock!**

"Meg, it don't bloody matter what you wear tonight, you'll look gorgeous just the same!" Mike told his wife.

"Hold your horses." Meg said, carefully pinning her hair out of her face. "We don't have to be there until six-thirty."

"It's six o'clock right now!" Mike exclaimed. "And remember, New York traffic is crazy."

"It is." Meg agreed, giving her husband a peck on the cheek. "I suppose it's a good thing we don't have to worry about the traffic."

It was the next day, Tuesday. Or rather, it was the next evening. It was Tuesday evening, and Mike, Meg, Bailee and Cameryn were about to go Below for the children's Halloween show and party. Things had cooled down reasonably between Mike and Meg. They had both been tired the previous day, and stressed out from traveling, which, like always, made situations seem worse then they really are. Mike had since apologized to Meg for making them look like ungrateful snobs in front of Joe, and had apologized for the rest of his behavior. Meg had accepted his apologies, but wearily. She knew all too well that tonight, after the party when Mike's stress had reached the max, he would accuse her for talking to other men. It was crazy, but she had put up with it since high school, and was used to it.

"You girls ready?" Meg walked out of Catherine's room and into the sitting area, where Bailee was helping Cameryn fasten the crown on Cameryn's head, with no success.

"Almost." Bailee grunted.

"Honey, let mommy take care of Cameryn's crown, okay?" Mike said, stepping out of Catherine's room. "You just finish putting on your costume."

"I am finished." Bailee saying, turning in a small circle, showing Mike her costume, which was complete with white slippers, her white gown, wings and a halo.

"Only you have a couple problems." Meg laughed, adjusting Bailee's wings so that they wouldn't hang lopsided. She took off Bailee's halo and handed Bailee a hairbrush. "Brush that tangled rats nest of your before you put your halo on."

She went over to Cameryn, who looked as cute as could be with her pink Glinda gown and wings, her naturally brown curly hair hanging in a mess after the failed crowning attempt. "Well, how's my little witch?" she asked Cameryn, sorting out the curls before pinning the crown into place. "There," she said, finishing, and handing Cameryn her 'magic' wand. "You're done."

She took the brush from Bailee and quickly finished brushing out Bailee's black hair before fastening the halo on her head. "And you're done too! Well, don't you two look gorgeous?"

Mike smiled at the three of them. Meg was good with kids - that was for sure. And the kids looked great. Mike was certain they'd be the belles of the ball, so to speak. But then again, there might not be a party. As much as Mike wanted to believe Meg about Below and such, was it really possible? Had they flown all the way over here for nothing? Well, he'd soon find out, right?

"Time to go!" Meg announced, grabbing the tray of cupcakes she had purchased for the party. "Come and grab my free hand, Bailee. Mike, can you take-"

"I'm on it." Mike said, scooping up Cameryn in his arms.

"Let's go." Meg said, heading out the door.

"Wait!" Mike said. "Those doors are unlocked!" He motioned to the French doors.

Meg stared at him. "So?"

"So someone could break in." He explained.

Meg sighed. "Catherine keeps them unlocked at all times for Vincent. And if anyone wanted to rob Catherine, do you really think they'd climb the entire eighteen stories – and make it without falling, especially on the way down? I don't think so."

"Right." Mike said slowly, following Meg out the door and locking the apartment door behind him. "So what you're saying is that this Vincent can climb up eighteen stories with no problem? Right. This I gotta see."

"It's true." Meg insisted. "And I never said with no problem. I don't know how he does it but he does. Once you see him, you'll believe me. He's huge!"

"Huge?" Mike looked at her with doubt.

"Taller and bigger than you." Meg led her small family into the elevator and pressed the button for the basement. "At least five inches taller than you, and at least two hundred pounds."

"Wow, big guy." Mike said.

"That's the funny thing." Meg said thoughtfully. "He's kind of slender. I guess its all muscle."

Mike looked at Meg skeptically. "You've noticed? Oh boy."

Meg sighed. "Is it a crime, noting whether one is slender or not?"

Mike realized what Meg was saying, that noticing one's weight was hardly 'checking them out'. "Sorry." He mumbled. "You're just so beautiful; hate to lose you."

That's what Meg couldn't stand about Mike. It seemed every five minutes he was making a comment about losing her. He really was rather paranoid that she'd leave him? Never! Well, she'd consider it if he didn't stop those comments soon enough!

"Uh, why are we going down to the basement?" Mike wanted to know as the elevator jerked to a stop.

"Because that's where-"Meg stopped as the elevator door opened and she saw two workmen down there, working near the Tunnel entrance. "Wrong floor." She finished her sentence lamely, pushing the UP button to go to the lobby.

"What's wrong?" Mike hissed as the elevator doors closed and the elevator began to lift.

"There are men working down there!" Meg whispered in reply. "They can't see us go Below and why are we whispering?"

"I don't know." Mike whispered back, laughing. "So now what's our plan?" he asked in normal voice as the elevator stopped with a ding! And let out its passengers.

Meg sighed. "I know there's an entrance over by Central Park, but I don't know how far away Central Park is!"

"It's not too far." A man commented, overhearing the last part of their conversation. "But you'll make it quicker by walking; the streets at this time of day are-"

"Thanks!" Meg interrupted him, taking Mike's hand and beginning to jog out the door.

"Meg, slow down!" Mike exclaimed, laughing as Bailee hurried to catch up with her parents. "We're going to lose someone!"

"Oh, Bailee, sorry." Meg apologized to her daughter, firmly re-clasping Bailee's hand. "Let's see if someone can show us the way to Central Park." She turned to a woman who was walking past them. "Excuse me, but do you know the way to Central Park?"

The woman shook her head. "No, but you can just take a cab. The streets aren't too bad this time of the day."

"Thanks." Meg said, turning back to Mike. "Now what do we do? That man just told us that the streets-"

"I know what he told us." Mike said with a sigh. "How much are cabs?"

"How much do you have?" Meg teased her husband. "Don't worry about the cost, 'kay? It won't be too bad and knowing Catherine-"

"She'd insist of reimbursing us." Mike finished, knowing his wife's cousin all too well. "Okay, let's find ourselves a cab."

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"You will all do fine," Vincent assured the children. "You have all worked very hard and I am very proud of each and every one of you – all of us are proud of you."

He turned to go. He felt rather sorry for Catherine, who could not attend the party. Father said it would be fine if she just sat there, but Catherine declined, saying that she'd rather rest, and have Vincent tell her all about it later that evening.

That was the part Vincent was most excited about. After the children's show, Vincent was going to ease out of the party scene and into the baby's chamber. He was going to take her Above and into Central Park was all he knew, but Catherine apparently had more up her sleeve. He knew that Joe knew what her secret was, and he had a good idea that Mary knew too, and William seemed to have a good idea of what the secret was too. It puzzled him. What kind of secret would Catherine have that Joe, Mary and William knew that had to do with tonight? Well, time would tell.

He hesitated outside the baby's chamber. "Catherine?" he called through the curtain.

"Vincent, come in!" Catherine called.

Vincent took a step in. Catherine was sitting crossed-legged on the bed, lightly holding her belly and biting her lip.

"What's the matter?" Vincent asked, rushing to her side, feeling her pain for the first time. Apparently, she had blocked it from him.

"Nothing." Catherine grimaced. "My stomach is a bit upset and my back is aching, but aside from that, I'm alive." She looked up at him. "What are you doing here? Don't you have children to tend to?"

"I did." He answered. He looked at her concernedly. "Why didn't you let me feel your pain?"

"Because it's no big deal!" Catherine said. "And why would I pull you away from your work when it isn't a big deal?"

Vincent sighed. "Catherine, we have been over this. Please, do not block me out. I _need _to know."

"Why?" Catherine asked. "So you can come rushing to my aid when I don't need it?"

Vincent shook his head. "It would just make me feel better. Please, Catherine?"

She sighed, shaking her head. "The puppy-dog eyes."

"What?" Vincent was taken aback.

"Sometimes, when you're really pleading, your eyes get all big and round and puppy-dog like." She explained. "Everyone does it, only when you do it, it hits my weak spot." She smiled softly. "Okay, I'll let you know when I'm in pain." She grimaced as the baby moved. "I'll just let you know every inch of my life."

"Now, Catherine," Vincent protested, wanting her to have some privacy.

"It's fine." She said, leaning back into the bed. "Oh, it hurts!"

Vincent stood awkwardly. "Can I get you anything?" he asked her.

"I wish." She said with a bitter laugh, the laugh aimed towards her pain, of course. "Go tend to the kids, and let me know when Meg and Mike get here."

"I'll send them to you straightaway." He promised. He hesitated before leaving. "Are you sure you don't need anything?"

She nodded. "Yes, I'm fine. I just need you to come back when you're ready to go Above, ready to lift a five million pound woman."

Vincent shook his head. "I shall be ready to lift one perfectly reasonably weighted woman who happens to have a child inside of her." He left on those words.

Catherine laughed, but stopped immediately once she found it made her hurt worse. He made her feel so special! She couldn't wait for her surprise later that night.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"Thank you, and happy Halloween." Mike thanked the cabbie as the cabbie prepared to drive away.

"You too!" The cabbie said as he drove away. "And careful – there are going to be a bunch of loonies out tonight!"

"Great." Mike said sarcastically. "That makes me feel great."

"Don't worry." Meg said, checking to make sure both of her children were in check. "The looniest person Below tonight will be Joe, and we don't have much to fear from him – I think." She laughed. "But then again, I have seen Vincent in a couple crazy moods, usually while playing with children or right after. It can be… interesting."

"We'll see." Was all Mike had to say. He looked around the park. "So, why are we here again?"

"There's an entrance to the Tunnels right there." Meg nodded towards a large tunnel coming up from the ground.

"Ew, we're supposed to go in there?" Mike grimaced. "Looks like sewerage."

"Its not." Meg assured her husband. "Let's go."

"Um, are we supposed to go in there?" Mike asked as they headed towards the entrance.

"Depends who you ask." Meg reasoned. "The N.Y.P.D., no, we're not. Father and the rest of the council, why not?"

Mike shook his head. "If we go to jail for this, you are being held responsible."

Meg laughed. "Scaredy-cat! Come on." Then she tried to enter the Tunnels as inconspicuously as she could. But it seemed that it wasn't going to be as easy as she wanted it to be.

"No!" Bailee tried to wriggle out of Meg's grasp.

"What's wrong?" Meg asked her daughter, well aware that several people were now looking at them.

"I don't want to go in there!" Bailee pouted, sticking her lower lip out.

Meg looked up at Mike helplessly. "Great, now what am I supposed to do?"

"Bailee, honey," Mike tried. "Its okay, I think. Why don't you want to go in there?"

"There's a Halloween party in there!" Meg told her daughter. "There are a bunch of other kids in there too, and grownups all waiting for you to come! And Aunt Catherine will be there!"

"It's scary." Bailee stated.

"How is it scary?" Mike asked.

"It just is." Bailee said, hopefully not aware that she was being rather defiant.

"It's not dark in there, if that's what you're scared of." Meg said knowingly. "It's a little darker than out here, but you can still see fine; it's lit by candlesticks."

Suddenly Mike got an idea. "I promise you, you'll love it. And if you go in with us without causing a scene, daddy has a present for you."

Hesitantly, Bailee grabbed Meg's hand and followed her Mom in. Mike followed with Cameryn in his arms. Luckily, Cameryn was half-asleep by this point; otherwise, they'd have another problem in their hands.

"What present?" Meg whispered to her husband.

Mike shrugged. "We'll figure it out."

Meg looked around carefully. She knew that if you followed this tunnel straight, eventually you would wind up at a gate, and somewhere around the gate, there would be a lever to pull or a button to press or something, and then Meg just assumed she could just follow someone's footprints to the main Tunnel community. If they got turned around, they could always turn around or bang on the pipes until someone came. How to communicate on the pipes, she wasn't sure, but she knew that Pascal would know where the banging was coming from, and Catherine would certainly be aware of her cousin not showing up, right?

"Uh, Meg?" Mike asked. "You don't look so sure about this."

"I am." Meg lied. "I'm just, er, concentrating."

"Right." Mike said sarcastically. "And there's a beast-like creature down here named Victor."

"Vincent." Meg corrected.

"Whatever." Mike said with a flip of his hand. "All I know is is that I think we're wasting our time."

Meg ignored that comment as she maneuvered around a corner, Bailee's hand still in her firm grasp, Mike and Cameryn on her heels. And there, around the corner, she saw the gate, the wall on the other side of the gate made of stone, but she knew it would move if she could just find the right lever.

"Uh, dead end?" Mike said. "Come on, Meg; let's go home."

"You wouldn't have come all the way to New York City with me if you thought I was lying." Meg reminded him, knowing he was just trying to be difficult. "Now we're looking for a lever."

"A lever?" Mike repeated.

"Yeah," Meg said. "You know, like a handle you pull down on?"

"I know what a lever is." Mike rolled his eyes. "Hurry up, before Bailee starts crying again."

Meg looked at her oldest daughter. Sure enough, the young girl was pale, and biting her lower lip, trying to keep from crying. The dim, damp tunnel was scaring her, not doubt.

"Don't worry, Bail's." She assured her older daughter. "It'll be okay; just hold on and wait." She looked around the Tunnel, trying to find the lever. And finally, she spied it, in the right hand corner, practically hidden. Anyone who wasn't looking for it would never ever find it, but then again, that was the point.

Meg reached out and pulled the lever, and to Meg's delight, the gate opened successfully, the stone behind it revealing more tunnels.

"We're home free!" Meg exclaimed. "Well, almost." She added, remembering she still had to find her way to the main community. She looked over at her husband, who stood marveling at the gate, the tunnels, and his wife.

"What is it?" Meg asked him.

"you are right…" Mike said slowly. "The city wouldn't have put this kind of gate in here…"

"I'm always-"before she could finish her sentence, she, along with Mike and the girls, were nearly knocked down by a figure running into the tunnel, coming from the park.

"Meg!" The person cried out, realizing who he almost ran into. It was Mouse. "Sorry. Trying to get something. For Vincent. For the party tonight." He winked at Meg. "For _his_ party tonight."

"Mouse, what are you talking about?" Meg asked, giving the young man a hug. "What do you mean by 'his' party."

Mouse looked at Mike, Bailee and Cameryn, and then back at Meg. "Can they be trusted?"

"Who, them?" Meg asked. "Of course!"

Mouse leaned in as if he had a very important secret to share. "After our party, Vincent's taking Catherine Above. Catherine is bringing surprises only Vincent doesn't know." Mouse tried to hide a giggle. "Mouse go bring this to Catherine." Before he could run off into the Tunnels, Meg stopped him.

"Wait, Mouse!" she called him. "Can you lead us to the Tunnels? To the baby's chamber, perhaps? We're, um, a little lost."

Mouse thought a moment before nodding. "Must be quick. Catherine not like it if Mouse is late with Vincent's present."

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"Are you finding this funny?" Vincent asked Catherine, eyebrow raised.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I am." Catherine giggled. "You know how adorable to look when you're puzzled?"

Vincent tried not to blush at that one, but didn't know if he succeeded or not. It seemed that for the past few months, he was always blushing, so perhaps it didn't even matter whether he tried to hide it or not. Besides, few people could tell when he blushed anyways, thanks to his fur.

"Guess." Catherine suggested, her eyes twinkling. "See if you can guess what my surprise for you is?"

Vincent thought a moment. "Generally, when a woman speaks to a man about a 'surprise', it is a baby, is it not?"

"Not tonight, hopefully!" Catherine laughed. "Maybe in time for Winterfest though! Guess again."

Vincent tried to think of what Catherine had in store for him. She acted as if he'd absolutely love her surprise for him, but he couldn't guess what it was; he wanted her most of all, and any of her he was allowed, he already had – and more, only he couldn't remember it.

"A book?" he guessed lamely.

"No; you've got books." She shook her head.

"So I don't already have what you're giving me." Vincent said. "Thank you for the clue."

She playfully whacked herself in the forehead. "Oops, my mistake. Anyways, guess again; third times a charm."

"Well, if the third time is a charm, then I might want to guess something I really want." Vincent teased. "A dog."

"No!" Catherine laughed. "Try keeping Below a secret with a barking dog!" she looked at his curiously. "You want a dog."

He shrugged. "Not really, but it was worth the guess. It sounds like something you might attempt to drag down here."

"It does." Catherine couldn't help but agree. "I'll answer your yes and no questions."

"Good." Vincent said, enjoying this guessing-game play. He hadn't done this since Christmas, as a child, before Devin left. "Is it round?"

"A part of it." Catherine answered carefully.

"Is it green?" he asked next.

_Oh no; he knows, _Catherine thought worriedly. Nevertheless, she answered with the truth. "Parts of it."

"Can I wear it on my head?" Vincent asked next.

That sent Catherine into bursts of laughter. "You'd look funny if you did!"

Vincent chuckled, waiting for Catherine to finish laughing. "I know what it is." He said definitely.

His saying that sent shivers up Catherine's spine. She hadn't exactly planned on him figuring it out. Didn't he know that even if you know what your gift is, you're supposed to feign surprise? "What is it?" she asked him.

"A turtle." He said triumphantly, a twinkle in his azure eyes.

Catherine's mouth dropped open. "A turtle?" That was the last thing she expected him to guess. "A turtle? Dare I ask what makes you think a turtle?"

"It's simple." Vincent held up one furred finger. "Number one, it is round – isn't a turtle's shell rather round? And second of all," he held up a second finger, "Turtles are green. Well, at least they are in books. And thirdly," he held up a third finger, "I cannot imagine anyone looking good with a turtle on their head, especially me, of all."

Catherine laughed, knowing he was just joking. "Creative." She said sarcastically. "You've been showing your witty, childish side a whole lot more lately."

Vincent shrugged, not knowing what to say to that. "Maybe you have just been around more often to see it."

Catherine sighed contentedly. "Well, keep an eye on it. Having a witty childish side is good, especially when one has kids, but I don't want to have our baby rightfully blaming everything on _you_." She laughed. "You're going to make such a good-"

Suddenly Vincent sat up straight, hearing something. "What is it?" Catherine asked softly, aware that Vincent had either heard or smelled something that she didn't or couldn't.

"Meg's here, I think." Vincent announced. "And Mouse. Just down the corridor."

"Mouse? With you in here? Oh, shoot!" Catherine explained. "Go to your chamber, no, you'll startle Mike and the kids. Go, wait, no, that won't work. Hide under the bed!"

"The bed?" Vincent was genuinely surprised.

"Otherwise my surprise for you will be ruined." Catherine explained desperately. "Please?"

Vincent hesitated and then nodded, getting down on the floor and doing his best to slid under Catherine's bed. It was a tight fit, but it worked, so long as he didn't try to move and so long as he didn't have to stay down there very long.

"Catherine?" Meg called through the curtain, laughing at something Mouse had apparently said. "Are you in there?"

"Yep, come in." Catherine answered.

Meg hesitated. "Um, are you _sure_? you are, um, the only one in there, right?"

Catherine tried not to giggle as she lied. "Yes, you could say that. Um, yes, I'm alone. Come on in!"

Meg, again, hesitated. Obviously, something was up.

Mike tapped his wife on the shoulder. "Um, can we go in?" he asked, glancing around at the damp stone walls. He didn't like it in the Tunnels one bit, and neither did the kids.

Meg nodded. "I, um, think so." She poked her head in the baby's chamber. Only Catherine was in sight, on the bed. No one else was apparently in the room. "Yes, lets go." They stepped inside. "Catherine!" Meg enveloped her cousin in a huge, but very gentle hug. "How are you?"

"Not bad for being stuck in bed for weeks on end." Catherine shifted uncomfortably, returning the hug. She gasped at Bailee and Cameryn in surprise. "Oh my word, you two has gotten so big!" she laughed.

Meg chuckled. "They sure have. Bailee, do you remember Aunt Catherine?"

Bailee had her finger in her mouth and shook her head 'no', to which made the women laugh more. Catherine nodded to Mike, who was standing a bit away from the rest of his family, still a bit shocked from finding out the Below was obviously real.

Mouse pushed through the family, a broad smile on his face. "Look, Catherine! Look what Mouse found!" he proudly handed her something wrapped up in brown cloth to conceal it.

"What is it?" Meg asked Catherine, sitting on the bed next to Catherine, Cameryn now on Meg's lap.

"A surprise." Catherine chose her words carefully, knowing Vincent was under the bed. "Um, Mouse? Why don't you, um, show them your chamber?"

Mouse looked from Meg's family to Catherine and then shook his head. "We passed Mouse's chamber already."

Catherine sighed. "Well, why don't you introduce them to William? I'm sure he'll be glad to meet them."

Mouse shook his head. "William is angry at Mouse."

"So what else is new?" Catherine muttered sarcastically. It seemed William was always after Mouse for one thing or another. 'Mouse traps' was no longer a way to describe a rodent catcher.

"Let's go see Mary." Meg said suddenly, getting the idea that Catherine wanted her family absent from the chamber for some reason. She took Meg's hand. "I guess I'll see you, um, later?"

Catherine nodded. "After you spend some time with Mary and the children, see if you can come to Father's chamber – with Mike."

Mike cleared his throat. "Am I the only one that has no idea what's going on?"

"You will." Catherine told him. She reached out and gave Bailee and Cameryn each a small hug. "You two look so nice!" she said. "I've never met an angel or a good witch before!"

The girls giggled, still shy, as they were led away by their parents, Mouse following aimlessly behind.

Once they were out of earshot, Catherine smiled. "The coast is clear, Vincent!"

Vincent scooted out from under the bed on his chest, his nose wriggling as if he were about to sneeze, but luckily he contained it. "Why, thank you Catherine, for sticking me under your bed so-"he lightly sat on the bed.

"Oh, hush up you big baby." She hugged him. "Mission accomplished – so far."

"I still have yet to meet Mike." Vincent said. "I am not sure about it – he seems very apprehensive and distant."

Catherine shrugged. "He'll get over it. And if he doesn't," she laid a hand on his shoulder. "He still won't blow your secret – I know it."

"And if he does?" Vincent looked at Catherine, his blue eyes serious. "If somehow word gets out?"

"Well, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it." Catherine said decidedly. "Come on, help me."

"Help you do what?" Vincent asked, standing up off the bed, preparing to help Catherine with whatever she needed help with.

She suddenly noticed she was still holding the bungle Mouse had given her, so she stuck it under her pillow, and then held her arms up. "Do you think you could take me to Father's chamber – and stay there with me?"

"Of course." Vincent said, lifting her as if she weighed no more than a feather. "There is no better time to meet Mike than now."

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"I hope you two know how reckless you two are being about letting the entire world know of our existence." Father grumbled as the three waited for Mike and Meg to arrive at Father's chamber.

"Father, it was the best thing we could do to let Joe know about our world." Vincent reminded Father. "He has been helpful in so many ways, especially with Catherine's work. And you agreed yourself that Meg and Mike should know."

"Three people are the entire world?" Catherine shrugged, knowing she was back-talking in a sense. "News on me."

Father looked at the woman seriously. "Well, you must admit Catherine that since you have come to know of our world, more and more people have learned about our world – and my son – which puts us all in danger."

"And she has also rescued our word – and your son – more than once." Vincent intervened before Catherine could reply. "Please, Father; now is not the time to accuse anyone, or turn back on our plans. Although…" he thought a moment.

"Although what?" Catherine pressed him.

He shook his head. "Never mind. It is nothing." The truth was that he did feel a bit uneasy about Mike. He had to agree with Catherine, that Mike seemed like he would certainly keep their secret. But would Mike happy about it, not really. Was he actually be able to honestly called a Helper? Vincent doubted that. He didn't know; he could just sense some people better than he could just sense others. Father called it a special gift that Vincent possessed. Was it true? Now that, Vincent didn't know. But he had never been one to doubt his father's word on anything.

"It's something." Father persisted. "Otherwise you would not have said anything."

"Tell us." Catherine urged him.

Vincent shook his head. "No, please, it is all right. It is nothing."

"Well, if it is all right and meaningless, there's no harm in sharing it." Father pointed out, knowing Vincent felt one way or another about Mike or someone else's knowledge of Below. And though Father was used to practically having to drag the subject out of Vincent, while talking to him, he still hated it. It was like pulling teeth to get him to open up, to even the people he trusted most!

Vincent sighed. "Well, there would be harm if certain people overheard." He said, leaning into so that Father and Catherine could hear him, but the risk of being overheard was lower. "I do not feel that Meg's husband, Mike, is very happy with the situation, what with being involved with us. I think he will keep our secret, but…"

Father looked a bit angry. "Why didn't you tell me that before, Vincent? We could have-"

"Don't be too hard on him, Father!" Catherine intervened. "You would have thrown a fit no matter what Vincent said!"

Suddenly Vincent's ears perked up. "They're coming!" he exclaimed, his eyes widening with a bit of worry.

"It will be all right, Vincent." Father attempted to calm the worry his son felt. "He can be trusted, remember that. What is the worse that could happen?"

"Must we think about that?" Vincent said dryly as Meg and Mike approached Father's chamber.

"Now this is Father's chamber." Meg said, she and Mike standing outside Father's chamber. "Um, Mike? I, um, think that Vincent and Catherine will be in there too, so don't um, scream or anything when you see Vincent, 'kay?"

"This 'Father' – he isn't like how to describe Vincent, is he?" Mike asked. "You know, big, furry, mean and ugly?"

Catherine took in a breath, turning to look at Vincent's face to see what his reaction was to that. He just shook his head. It didn't seem to bother him all that much, since he was rather used to it. But then Catherine saw the look in Father's eyes, the hurt, and the sheer pain. She knew Father loved Vincent, and had worked hard to raise him, and was so proud of him, regardless of what his son looked like.

"I didn't say that!" Meg protested. "Well, I did say he was tall and furry, but he's not mean or ugly! He seems very gentle and kind and-"

"And let's get on with it!" Mike urged his wife. "I can't wait to get back to Catherine's apartment and numb all of this overwhelming nonsense."

Catherine could hear the anger in Meg's voice. "Well, if she has any alcohol there, it's off-limits. The only way your going to be numbing any pains is some pain reliever with some sleep aid in it, because you know I wall not tolerate any drinking in front of-"

"Big whoop." Mike said. "Come on; let's get meeting this 'scary beastie' over with."

Meg sighed. She didn't know if Mike believed her or not, or what his reaction would be, or what he was going to do about it. She also didn't know why he was acting the way he was. It seemed that sometimes, especially lately, he just seemed so… thoughtless and cruel. She only hoped he wouldn't do or say anything stupid in front of Vincent – or Catherine, because Catherine was known for her fiery tongue in the Chandler family, and she wouldn't hesitate to defend Vincent, or any of the other Tunnel Dwellers, for that matter. Meg knew that as a fact, though luckily not from experience.

"Well, here goes." Meg said, taking a deep breath. "Um, anyone in there?" she called through the chamber door.

"Meg? Is that you?" Father said, knowing full well it was.

"Yes." Meg answered, grasping Mike's hand tightly so he wouldn't run away or chicken out or something stupid. "It's me and my husband, Mike. Can we, um, come in, please?"

"Come on, come on." Father told them.

Meg looked back at Mike. "Ready?"

Mike mumbled something unintelligible, but Meg supposed it was for the best; she probably didn't want to know what he said anyways.

"Well, here goes nothing." Meg said, pushing open the curtain and walking into Father's chamber, taking Mike with her.

The first thing Mike noticed was a little old man sitting at a desk, dressed in brown rags it looked like. He couldn't help but wonder how broke those people were. One could get decent clothes at a thrift store for a couple bucks – they didn't need to wear homespun rags.

The old man stood in greeting, using his cane to support himself as he extended one hand for Mike to shake. "You must be Mike." Father said. "And welcome, welcome to our world. I am sure I speak for everyone that we're glad to have you as our friend, and our confidante. And this," he motioned to Vincent sitting in Vincent's special chair off in the corner, though Vincent was rising to properly meet Mike, "Is my son, Vincent."

Vincent reached his hand out in greeting, immediately regretting the fact that he hadn't worn at least his gloves. He hadn't needed to – he hadn't gone Above or had done heavy work, but he found that one generally preferred shaking a gloved hand than a fur one. "Hello, Mike." Vincent said in his naturally gravelly voice. "I have heard much about you. Welcome."

Acting on impulse, Mike shook Vincent's hand, as he did everyday when he met someone, whether they were an old friend, or a complete stranger.

The furs on Vincent's hand caused his to immediately jerk back. But Vincent didn't bat an eye. He just nodded his 'nice to meet you' again, and motioned to a chair across from Father's desk. "Please, sit." He said, acting as if Mike hadn't just acted as if Vincent had leprosy or something.

Meg's face turned red hot in anger when Mike pulled away at Vincent's touch. What was wrong with him? Not Vincent, but Mike? He knew better than that! How much ruder could he get?

Catherine gave Mike a weak smile and a nod. His reaction to Vincent was, well, somewhat expected. Not a big deal, really. And she wasn't like Vincent at all, where she could sense things or pick up little things here and there, but she couldn't help but notice that Mike seemed a bit… distant? Cold? She felt as if she needed to talk to Meg alone. Maybe they were having problems. And if Catherine couldn't help, well, she always had two shoulders for people to cry on.

Father cleared his throat to clear up the awkward silence that followed Mike's sitting down. "Well, um, Mike, I presume you already know Catherine," he motioned to Catherine who was carefully perched upon Vincent's lap, "so tell us about yourself. What do you do for a living? What do you enjoy?"

Mike squirmed uncomfortably. _Great, now they are going to interrogate me to death,_ he thought, stealing a glance at Vincent. _And man, is that guy, I guess he is, isn't he ugly? Worse than I thought. I was expecting some Bert Lahr Cowardly Lion type thing, but this? And they say it's not makeup or anything – I can't see them joking about this, but yet, it can't be true, can it? If I found out its not, well, I'll be mad as hell. And if it is true, well, I'll be dammed._

"Well, um," Meg nudged her husband, trying to get him to speak. "We met in high school, when I was about fifteen or sixteen… you tell the rest, Mike."

Mike snapped back to reality. "Huh? What'd you say?"

"He asked what you did for a living." Meg said to him, faking a smile through gritted teeth. "And what you enjoy doing. Be polite, make conversation and answer him." She said it lowly and quietly, as for everyone in the chamber not to hear, but alas, Vincent could hear every word anyone said, even when they whispered, in her words bounced off the chamber walls, so Catherine and Father could both get a good idea of what she had said to him.

"Why? Are they questioning me for something?" Mike asked his wife quietly, irritated, also gritting his teeth.

"Just be polite." She hissed.

"Well, I'm, um, in the medical field-"Mike began.

"The medical field." Father leaned forward with interest, having long ago taken back his seat behind his desk. "How interesting. I am in the medical field as well. What do you do?"

"Um, I'm a psychiatrist." Mike said nervously. "That's where you, um, it's kind of like psychology, which is, well... You talk to people, listen to their problems, and try to help them. It's all a matter of mental disorders, and mental health." He said each word clearly, saying the big words extra slow and enunciating them carefully. Mike felt the need to explain the field of psychology to Vincent. After all, hadn't Meg mentioned he had lived beneath the ground his entire life? That had to stink. The guy couldn't be that intelligent, for sure. One needed to be out in the world to really know things. He glanced nervously at Vincent, wondering if he had understood a word that Mike had just said.

But Vincent nodded as if he understood all that Mike had just said. And he did. He knew perfectly well, what a psychiatrist was, what they did, and all those sorts. Father had books; of course, some of those books dated back to the early 1900's, but Vincent had devoured them, as he did with every book in Father's 'library', not once, not twice, or even thrice, but countless upon countless times. "What made you want to become a psychiatrist?" Vincent tried to encourage conversation, since it seemed directed at him.

"I don't know." Mike faltered. "I suppose it was just intriguing at the time. What made you want to become, um, whatever-you-do?" He suddenly realized as soon as it was too late, that Vincent didn't have a job. He was probably the loneliest guy on the planet. He probably spent all day lying in bed, wishing he was different, or whining and complaining to himself, or worse, to someone, about how life was so unfair. Because he certainly couldn't get and didn't have a job.

Father chuckled. "Vincent does quite a bit of everything." He looked fondly at his son. "From boulders, to the children's lessons, to fixing water leaks-"

A giggle escaped from Catherine's throat. "Or trying too." She added, which made Vincent, Father and Meg laugh, remembering what the children referred to as 'the great mud catastrophe'.

Mike shifted uncomfortably. "Well, um, it was good meeting you. I have to, well; I have to check on the kids." He looked over at his wife. "Meg?" he made it abundantly clear that he wanted to get away from Father, Vincent and Catherine, clearly uncomfortable and overwhelmed by their company.

Meg nodded. "Just a moment. Um, Bailee and Cameryn are just down the corridor – go left and it's the first chamber on your right. They're with Mary – you can't miss it."

Mike nodded, stood, turned, and left. Meg sank down wearily in his chair after he left.

Father cleared his throat a bit awkwardly. "It is good to see you again, Meg." He told the woman. "How have you been?"

"You don't want to know." Meg said. "He's been nothing more than an absolute pain and hindrance since we boarded the plane in Indiana."

Father didn't know what to say to that, and neither did Vincent. Those things weren't exactly announced Below. Sure, if one had problems, seeking someone out, venting, and getting good advice was one thing, but just openly announcing it? No, it wasn't the way things were done.

"Um, Vincent?" Catherine said. She jerked her head to the door. "How do I say this nicely; get out." She said the last part nearly flat, a bit of humor in her voice. But of course, Vincent knew that Catherine just wanted to talk to Meg alone. "And Father, doesn't Mouse want to show you something?"

"Very subtle, Catherine." Meg couldn't help but laugh, despite the circumstances. "Let's just go to the baby's chamber and talk – alone." She stood to leave, but Father stopped her.

"Meg, are you sure you are all right?" he asked her concernedly, knowing that Meg was very dear to Vincent's Catherine. The last thing he wanted for Meg was sadness or anger, because not only is that never good for anyone, but then it would probably spread to Catherine, and then, thanks to the bond, Vincent. And that was the last thing anyone needed.

She nodded. "Fine. I'd just like to talk to Catherine."

"The guest chamber has been empty since you left us last." Vincent told Meg, carefully standing up with Catherine in his arms. "You could stay there the night, if you need to, if it would help any."

Vincent!" Father scolded his son.

Meg shook her head. "Thanks, but no thanks, Vincent."

Vincent walked out of Father's chamber, Catherine in his arms, Meg following behind listlessly, ready to vent to Catherine.

Father shook his head, sand then put his face in his hands. What was their world coming to? It seemed that every time things were settled down, or just settling down, something else happened, as if someone didn't want their world to be peaceful. Well, their world had been absolutely peaceful until the arrival of Catherine in Vincent's life, but Father couldn't blame her for the chaos. She had pulled them out of many situations, selflessly, she was kind and generous, and he had noticed the look in his son's face ever since Catherine came. The happiness, and since the pregnancy, Vincent had been smiling more, laughing more, joking around more, for which Father was grateful for. Vincent wasn't so lonely anymore, and perhaps for the first time in his life, he felt like a real person.


	30. Chapter 30

"He's just so… different!" Meg said, wiping away a frustrated tear. "He used to never be this reckless, careless, mean and all of that! He used to be, I don't know – different!"

"Here," Catherine handed Meg a well-used but clean handkerchief. "Use this. They keep me in full-stock down here." She laughed a bit self-consciously. "I cry over everything."

Meg chuckled a bit, despite her tears. "I mean, I thought we got along great together, and were perfect together, but the past couple months have been so crazy – he's like a different person! And now that I think about it, this has been happening slowly, but steadily for years and years, but the past couple months have been like an avalanche or something. Sometimes he acts like he used to. I mean, he'll tell me I'm pretty, give me a kiss, thank me for taking care of the kids, making his dinner and all that, and tell me that he loves me. But then right away, it seems he'll snap into this other mood. He's careless with his words, very blunt and sometimes cruel with his words. He seems so selfish and stuff, and rude and out to make me miserable." She glanced over at her cousin, who was smiling at her sympathetically from her place on her bed. "And I'm rambling. You must think I'm a lunatic."

"No." Catherine shook her head. "I've been there."

"You have?" Meg looked up in surprise. "With Vincent?"

"With Stephen." Catherine reminded her. "He'd make me cry, then hand me a dozen roses, and the next thing I'd know, he'd slap me or make me cry again. No, not Vincent. He'd never do that. He's 'the one', I'm pretty sure." She smiled contentedly.

"Are you trying to say that Mike isn't 'the one'?" Meg asked dryly.

"Did I say that?" Catherine said. "No, I mean, yes. Yes, I think Mike is 'the one' for you. But sometimes spouses fight; that's the way life works."

"You and Vincent never fight." Meg said.

"Depends on how you define 'fight'." Catherine reasoned. "I suppose we should be using the word 'argue' instead. 'Fighting' is more physical – Mike doesn't hit you or hurt you or anything right?" she asked as soon as the thought dawned on her.

Meg shook her head. "Not physically, at least. Okay, you and Vincent never argue."

"But we do!" Catherine insisted. "We did while you were here; we had a little quarrel over… what was it about again?"

"But you see that that's just it." Meg said. "You don't even remember what it's about. You argue occasionally over piddley nothing. That's different than the way most couples argue."

Catherine sighed. "Well, I can't give you any tips to make you two stop arguing. Vincent is just so agreeable, is his problem. So long as I'm happy, and everyone is safe, he doesn't give a dam about the situation."

"But Mike is such a control freak." Meg complained.

"Most all men are, I think." Catherine pointed out. "Vincent is a rarity in our time."

Meg sighed. "So, any suggestions?"

"Mike is a counselor; can't you two just talk it out?" Catherine asked. "Or even see another counselor?"

Meg shook her head. "He knows all the mental-type doctors in our area; he'd never admit to a fault anywhere in his life to any of them."

"Everyone has faults." Catherine said. "Tell him to get over it."

"Then we'll just get into another argument." Meg sighed. "See, it's a lose-lose situation."

"No, its not." Catherine said, determined. "Maybe you guys could see a marriage counselor that's not in your area; maybe one that is a couple hours away. It'd be worth the trip, won't it?"

Meg shook her head. "It doesn't matter; Mike would never go."

Catherine searched through her mind. If Mike was a boyfriend, Catherine would have suggested the Meg just dump him. But he wasn't a boyfriend; he was her husband for over a decade. Suddenly she thought of something very simple. If Meg or Mike had gone to Vincent to discuss their problem, Vincent would have asked this question first thing. "Do you love him?" Catherine asked, somewhat hesitantly.

"W-What?" Meg asked, a bit startled at such a broad and abrupt question. "Do I- of course! I wouldn't be married to him if I didn't!"

"Does he love you?" Catherine asked next.

Meg nodded slowly. "I… I think so."

"Don't 'think' so." Catherine told her. "If I were you, I'd find out! And if he does, then you two will be able to make this work, right?"

Meg shook her head. "You make it sound so simple. Cathy, you've never been married. It's impossible for you to understand. Now, sure, if Mike became paralyzed, or went brain-dead, so to speak, yes, then I'd say that you could understand; you're in a situation like that. But this is… different."

That fired up Catherine's temper. "Vincent is neither paralyzed or 'slow', Meg!" she fired back. "For your information, he's-"

"I never said he was!" Meg said, holding her hands up in defense. "I was just using those things as examples. You know, hard-to-deal with situations, like hard-to-deal with physical circumstances, like you have with Vincent. I wasn't-"

"Sure you weren't." Catherine said dryly.

"Catherine!" Meg hated it when her cousin acted like this. She hadn't done it sine they were teenagers, of course. It was only because Catherine was pregnant, but still, it was annoying – and it hurt. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean it that way! I was just saying that, marriage isn't something your experienced in, so-"

"I'm practically experienced in it." Catherine reminded Meg. "Like I've said before, Stephen wasn't just a little crush of mine."

Meg sighed. "Okay, so you were practically married. I mean, you were, as far as everyone was concerned. So when you broke-up, it was practically a divorce. And I need tips, how to save our marriage. It seems Mike is just turning into a total-"

Suddenly there was a hesitant voice outside the baby's chamber. "Catherine?" it was Vincent.

"Yes, Vincent?" Catherine asked, a bit annoyed to have their discussion interrupted, but just the same, thrilled that Vincent was coming to see or talk to her. She still got a shiver up her spine every time he was near, she loved him so much.

He stuck his head in the chamber. "It is almost time for the party." He referred to the children's 'show', and then supper and whatever else they had planned for the Halloween 'party'. He looked at her curiously, having felt her anger. "Are you all right?"

She nodded. "We're fine. Um, how long until the children are ready?"

"Half an hour." Vincent told her. But you asked me to let you know ahead of time?"

She again nodded. "Okay, then can you come back in half an hour?" she blew him a kiss. "Love you."

He ducked his head, nodded, and left, embarrassed that she acted that way in front of Meg. _What, embarrassed because she acted like she loves you? _A voice inside his head said. _She does, and it doesn't matter if Meg was in the room or not. Get over it, Vincent._ He shook his head. He loved her so much that it hurt, yet he had the hardest time expressing so, yet keeping it restrained. Catherine had it easy; she didn't have to keep restrain- wait, she did, right? She loved him, for certain, he had no doubt. As much as he loved her? If it was possible, she did. So certainly, she had trouble restraining herself from any physical intimacy or anything of the like? The thought should have dampened his mood, reminding him of all the limitations they had on their relationship, a relationship that seemed as if they were married, only they weren't. But it didn't dampen his mood; it actually put a little lilt in his step. The realization that she loved him as much as he loved her was amazing. No matter how long he lived, he would never understand how she could love him. Never. But he was sure thankful she did. It seemed like a miracle to him, her overwhelming love and self-sacrifice, though she had been a little 'off' lately, what with the pregnancy. He could only hope and pray that once the baby was born, everything would get back to normal, as contradictory as that may have sounded.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"I have absolutely nothing nice to wear." Catherine said grudgingly as Meg went through the dresser drawers in the baby's chamber where Catherine clothes were kept. "It'll be a miracle if I ever fit in anything nice again."

Meg ignored her cousin's comments, knowing perfectly well that within a few weeks after the baby was born, Catherine would be her slender, fit, beautiful self again. Instead, she held a maternity dress that Catherine had picked up months ago. She hadn't been able to imagine herself that big at the time, but now that she was approximately seven months pregnant, she doubted she could fit in it. "How about this?" Meg suggested. "Its pretty and-"

"For fat people." Catherine sat flatly. "That's pretty much the only thing in there that's going to fit me, right?"

Meg peered into the drawer. "Pretty much." she verified. "Mostly there are just underclothes and nightgowns, since you've been wearing that most of the time anyways now, since you've been on bed rest." she handed Catherine the dress. "You'll look fine; do you need help?"

"Don't know yet, but I doubt it." Catherine said. "And since I haven't had a decent shower since I've been down here-"

"But what about the bathing chambers?" Meg interrupted. "Haven't you used them?"

"Right." Catherine rolled her eyes. "That wouldn't work; how would I get there and back? The only one who can take me is Vincent and, well, you know." she sighed. "I thought that the sponge baths would suffice but, well, let's face it; I'm missing normal life."

Meg nodded sympathetically. "You know that Father and Peter have your best interest in mind, and that's why you're on bed rest, right?" she checked with Catherine.

Catherine nodded. "Still." she pulled the nightgown up over her head and then the clean dress down over her head, pulling on the lower part of the skirt so the waistline would fall just above her swollen belly as it was supposed to. Catherine sighed. "I can only imagine what I look like."

"You look fine." Meg said soothingly, beginning to tackle Catherine's hair with a hairbrush. "So, what are your big plans for tonight?"

"Nothing big." Catherine admitted. "I did have big plans, but then, well, you know. The bleeding and all that happened, so I've been on this stupid bed for the past couple months, meaning my big plans will, of course, have to wait until next year."

"Well, what were your big plans?" Meg asked.

Catherine sighed dreamily. She had been sighing a lot more than she had before she had gotten pregnant. "To go see a Broadway show."

"A Broadway show?" Meg asked, surprised. "But Vincent can't-"

"On Halloween plenty of people are in costumes when they see Broadway shows." Catherine told Meg. "Vincent wouldn't have been any different, or well, at least he wouldn't have appeared that way." she glanced at Meg, who was busy sweeping up Catherine's hair in a simple, but beautiful way. "So we're going to have a little picnic of sorts. Joe brought some wine and stuff, so I can surprise Vincent. Mary's loaned me a basket and picnic blanket, Mouse somehow managed to 'find' some expensive chocolates Above, and William is going to give us hot cocoa and the like, so hopefully it'll be fun."

"It will be." Meg said, handing Catherine Catherine's purse that had her basic make-up in it. "You probably haven't worn this in awhile." she chuckled.

"No, I haven't." Catherine said pouring the liquid foundation into the palm of her hand. "I always like to look my best for Vincent and all, but when I'm in bed all day, every day, I just-"

"I'm sure he could care less." Meg reassured Catherine.

"Yes, I know, but I also know that he likes it when I take the extra effort to look nice just for him." she said. "Oh well, soon we'll be back at everything normal, well, almost."

"Do you want things to be back to normal? Meg sounded surprised. "I thought you were happier the way things are now then they were before you got pregnant."

"Well," Catherine thought carefully. "I am, I guess. And I'm perfectly happily staying Below right now, don't get me wrong, I just hate being in bed Below. I want to _do _something, even if its something as simple as walking across the chamber!"

Meg nodded sympathetically. "Well, soon, don't worry." she handed Catherine a pair of simple shoes, even though Catherine wouldn't be walking on them. "Put these on." she told Catherine. "And you'll be ready to go."

Catherine sat aside the purse, having just finished putting a slight, very quick layer of make-up on, and slipped on the shoes. "I guess I'm ready." she said, slipping Mouse's gift of chocolates and Joe's wine into the picnic basket, which was already laden with a blue and white checked picnic blanket. "William is going to give me the cocoa right before we leave, in a thermos, so it'll still be hot when we're ready to drink it."

Meg eyed the wine bottle. "Has Vincent ever had wine before?"

Catherine shrugged. "Probably not. That's why I had Joe get white wine; its easier for 'beginners', so to speak." she looked at her watch. "Okay, Vincent should be here to get me in a few minutes; why don't you go find Mike and the girls, so you guys can get good seats for the show?"

Meg hit herself in the forehead. "I forgot about them! Oh, please God, please make him not have said anything stupid." she hurried out of the room to go find her husband and daughters.

Vincent turned and watch Meg fly out of them room. Then he turned to Catherine, astonished to see how she had gone through the trouble of looking nice for him, especially for him. He knew that she had been especially tired of late, although she spent most of her time in bed. But he couldn't blame her; over the past several years, and especially months, he had learned exactly what emotional exhaustion could be. Probably at its worst. Little did he know what would lie ahead in the future.

"You look wonderful, Catherine." he told her fondly. He did not care if she was heavily with child, had circles underneath her eyes, was pale from no sunshine, and all of that. He thought she was beautiful anyway.

She snorted. "Thanks, Vincent." she said. She said it meaningfully, but a bit sarcastically. She really did mean to thank him, but knowing that she looked hideous, at least in her own eyes, made his compliment a bit of an insult, but she didn't really care. He meant the best, and all men flub their 'lines' from time to time, right? And Vincent didn't have rehearsed 'lines'; he spoke from his heart.

She gave him a faint smile. "Are the children excited?"

Vincent nodded. "Very. You know big and important tonight is." he said, a bit of humor in his voice, knowing how special this rather simple night was for all of the children. "But I am sure we will all enjoy it."

"I'm sure we will." Catherine agreed. "I've heard that Mouse has rigged up some sort of a stage lighting system?"

Vincent chuckled. "Yes, well, remember that if there is an outage, do not move; I will find you." his blue eyes turned serious. "Father is getting very concerned about 'stolen' electricity though, and Mouse's playing with wires and such to try to get electricity here Below."

"I don't think it's needed." Catherine said, looking around wistfully. "I like the candlelight. It's beautiful, not to mention that its-"

"More efficient?" Vincent quickly interrupted, feeling her somewhat aroused mood through their bond.

"Yes, that's the word I was looking for - efficient." Catherine said flatly. _More like romantic,_ she thought, _or a great place to steal a kiss._

Vincent cleared his throat awkwardly. "Do you think we should go find the others now?" he suggested. "The 'show' will certainly be beginning soon." He wanted to get in a crowd of people suddenly. Catherine made him so... he didn't want to risk anything happening, with them being alone in her chamber, everyone else gone, completely absorbed in the party. Too much, could happen - and go wrong.

"Yes, it will." Catherine said reluctantly as Vincent began to carefully and gently scoop her into his arms. "I feel like such a baby." she moaned. "I really wish you didn't have to carry me like this. Maybe I should just stay in bed. It's too much of a burden for you to be-"

"It is no burden." Vincent assured the woman in his arms, leaving the chamber with her. "And I shouild hate for you to be in here alone, whilst everyone else is enjoying themselves."

"And besides," Catherine said, beginning to see his side of it. "If I were to stay in bed the whole time, then you would have to go Above alone, and then our whole night would be ruined."

Vincent's eyes twinkled, though he tried to get a more frustrated look on his face. "What _IS_ this surprise you have planned?"

"You'll find out." Catherine said somewhat mischievously. "It's kind of round, kind of green, and you can't wear it on your head - what is it?"

"Kind of round?" Vincent echoed as they entered the chamber where everyone was gathering for the children's show. "What could be kind of round?"

"My stomach after tonight's over." Joe groaned, walking over to the two, overhearing the last part of this conversation. He was dressed as a vampire, his black hair slicked back, with black slacks and a black cape. "Whoever made these maple sugar candies is-"

Catherine laughed. "It's Joe with a stomach ache. Round, green and-"

"Hey, hey, what are we talking about here?" Joe interrupted.

"He thinks I'm giving him a turtle." Catherine explained to Joe with a laugh. "My surprise for him? I told him it is kind of round, parts of it is green, and he can't wear it on his head."

"Ah." Joe said all-knowingly. "I see... a turtle." He then shook his head at Vincent. "Nope. Not a turtle. It's a motorbike. Round wheels, green seat, and well, you could only wear it on your head if it's on a ball cap and somehow I can't see you with one on, sorry mate."

"Hush Joe!" Catherine shushed him with a smile. "I want him to be surprised when he sees his new pony!"

Vincent chuckled. "A pony, Catherine! Honestly!"

"The motorbike example was better." Joe offered. "Right?"

Before Vincent could reply, Meg came over, an astonished looking Bailee in tow. "Everything looks wonderful!" Meg exclaimed. "Absolutely wonderful!"

"Sure does." Joe agreed, purposely avoiding looking at the woman who made his heart beat like it never had before.

"Thank you." Catherine said. "I only wish I could take credit for it." she sighed. "I'm so useless."

"You are not useless!" Joe and Meg admonished her at the same time.

Vincent eyed Bailee, and bent down just a bit to talk to her. He could bend down much, or kneel, since Catherine was in his arms, but he could try. "Hello." he said, holding out a gloved hand. "I'm Vincent. May I ask who you are?"

She shook her head, frightened at the man's appearance. She had seen some pretty impressive costumes in her six years, but never one quite as astonishing as the lion-man that stood in front of her, holding Aunt Catherine.

"Hey." Joe stuck his vampire teeth in his mouth and knelt down to her height. "I have a really important question for you young lady."

She nodded slowly, recognizing the man vaguely. She thought it was the nice man who she had met last night outside Aunt Catherine's apartment, but she wasn't sure. And since he had those scary teeth in his mouth...

"What have you done with Bailee?" he demanded. "You look just like Bailee, but you can't be Bailee at all. Your a little angel." he referred to her costume.

She giggled, and then being sure, it was the same man, warming up to him instantaneously. "It's a costume!" she blurted out.

"A costume?" Joe said in mock astonishment. "Get out of town!"

"It is!" she insisted, laughing.

"No it isn't! Stop lying to me!" Joe told her, laughing.

"It's just a costume!"

"Come here!" he picked her up and swung her wildly in the air, and then started tickling her. Meg, Catherine, and Vincent joined in Joe and Bailee's laughter, as well as a few bystanders.

"You see this man?" Joe said finally, Bailee on his hip, turning to Vincent. "This is Vincent, my friend. He's probably even more fun then I am, but he can't play right now. Maybe another day."

Vincent could tell that Joe was trying to make a good effort to include him, to help make Bailee not be afraid of him, and appreciated it, even if Joe wasn't doing the best job. He wondered if Bailee thought Vincent was wearing a costume or not. He also didn't know what he rather her think. He vaguely remembering being her age, very vaguely, but he remembered it. He hadn't really even noticed the difference between himself and other children, and he doubted the other children had notice the differences in them either. But they had grown up together. Anyone, no matter the age, who had first met Vincent, was always in a bit of shock.

Vincent was just opening his mouth to say something when Mary rushed over to him, looking relatively unsettled. "Vincent, the children want you." She told him.

Vincent's eyebrows furrowed together. "Mary, why? I have already told them what they needed to know, I've given them-"

"The performance is starting in five minutes." Mary reminded him. "And they all have the jitters. None of us can calm them, but certainly you-"

"I will see what I can do." Vincent promised the older women. "Excuse us." He nodded to Meg, Joe and Bailee, walking over to the front row where Father was already seated.

"So far, so good." Catherine whispered in his ear, speaking of Bailee meeting Meg. "I expect Cameryn will either just cry or have no reaction at all, don't you think?"

Vincent nodded. "She is at such an age where that is expected. Do you mind- that is, would you care to sit with Father?"

Catherine smiled, knowing how the older man often acted gruff, but whose heart was made of putty. He would certainly adore the children's performance, though it might grumble through it all, pointing out little things here and there, that would annoy Catherine have to death. But she couldn't help but be reminded of how kind Father really was to her; he hadn't forbidden Vincent to see her, and over the past several months, since she had become pregnant and started staying Below more often, he almost acted… friendlier, as if he was more accepting of Vincent and Catherine's relationship together. She hoped she wasn't imagining this in vain.

"I'd love to." She affirmed Vincent's question.

Vincent nodded, releasing an inaudible sigh of relief. Sometimes he wondered what the future held, in the relationship of Catherine and Father. There was no one he loved more, that he owed more to than Father. But then again, he couldn't even begin to comprehend all that he felt he owed Catherine, and his love for her seemed like an endless river – he loved them both equally, and thinking that Father didn't approve of Catherine sometimes broke his heart. He knew that Father had only his, and her, best interests in mind, but lately he had noticed a change in both of their attitudes. It seemed Catherine understood Father's way of thinking better, and Father had understood Vincent and Catherine's. Vincent could only hope, because the last thing he ever wanted to do, was to be forced to choose between Father, the man who loved him, raised him, sheltered him, advised him, and who, when it came down to it, gave Vincent the gift of life, or Catherine – the woman who loved him as he was, unconditionally.

Vincent stepped over near Father. "Excuse me, Father," Catherine said, "But may I sit next to you?"

Father looked at bit startled, a bit surprised that she would ask. But then again, maybe Vincent put her up to it. Or not. A genuine gleam was in her eye, a gleam that said she honestly did want to sit with him. Surprising. Perhaps the girl was not so bad at all. Perhaps, though he'd never admit it, his first impressions had been entirely false and not right in the least.

Father nodded. "Go ahead, dear Catherine. I-I should enjoy your company very much."

Vincent nodded his thanks at his Father as he gingerly sat Catherine down on the chair next to Father. "Is this chair comfortable enough?" Vincent asked Catherine worriedly. The 'audience' seating was filled with mismatched chairs. "Perhaps I should fine a more comfortable one? Or fetch a pillow of some sort? Is it too chilly-"

"Vincent!" Catherine laughed. "I'm fine! Go tend to the children." Her eyes sparkled with excitement, as she hadn't had any social fun or interaction in months. "I'll save you a seat." She offered with a smile.

Vincent hesitated before nodding, and then fled up onto the 'stage' and disappeared behind the makeshift curtain, where one could hear the children buzzing about. Catherine turned to the elderly man sitting beside her. "This'll be some performance, don't you think?"

"Most definitely." Father couldn't help but agree. "Both Vincent and the children have worked hard. I am sure it will be quite extraordinary."

"That's one word for it." Meg laughed, taking a seat on the row behind them with Mike and Bailee, Cameryn in her arms. "'Frightening' was the word I was thinking of; how could so many children memorize so many poems and plays and stuff? I can't even keep John 3:16 straight!"

Catherine busted out laughing. "John 3:16? That's like, the most common Bible verse in the world! Jeez, Meg!"

"Hey, I told you I didn't have a mind for those things, didn't I?" Meg reminded her cousin with a laugh. "Father, this is Cameryn." She caught the three-year-old's hand as she wormed her way off of her mother's lap and tried to run exploring. "And here, over here on Mike's lap, is Bailee."

Father nodded at both of the small girls. "It is nice to meet you both." He said with a smile, remembering when his own children were that size.

Suddenly Vincent slipped back into view, from the other side of the curtain and with a single leap; he leapt from the 'stage' over to in front of the chairs, where he sat down beside Catherine. "Well, that is taken care of. They had just a bit of stage fright, but I think they are all fine now. Do you think-"Suddenly he noticed Meg and her family sitting behind them and nodded to them. "I see that you have broken into the sweets." He said, eyeing Cameryn's sticky face. She stared at him in wonderment with her big blue eyes.

"Yes, we have." Meg said with a smile. "It'll keep her busy during the performance. Three-year-old's don't often have appreciation the fine arts and poetry."

"Agreed." Vincent said, eyeing Father, a smile playing on his lips. "However, the children who are exposed to it at a young age aren't harmed in the least by it – I know from experience. And while I cannot see where those hours spent being lectured in philosophy has helped my life so far," he teased Father, "one never knows; perhaps someday it will come in use."

"It has come in use." Father huffed. "With philosophy comes wisdom and I hardly think that-"

Suddenly the chamber was filled with a hush was Maria timidly stepped out on the stage, dressed in a simple, but beautiful fairy costume, ready to begin the show.

"We'll discuss this later." Father hissed to his son, who was sitting two seats away from him, next to Catherine. Vincent pretended he couldn't hear Father, but he obviously did, Father knew. His son had amazing senses, being able to see things in the dark better than others, being able to smell things no one else could smell, tasting different things no one else could taste and yes, hearing things no one else could hear. There was no way that one word spoken by anyone in this chamber in a normal-leveled voice would go unnoticed or unheard by Vincent, who would be able to distinctly hear every world if he paid close enough attention, which, of course he never did. Respecting other people's privacy was a basic courtesy, and practically a law Below; it helped keep the community together.

And Vincent had heard Father, but only faintly. When Maria had stepped out on that stage, his heart leapt into his throat, for fear that the little girl would mess up. He knew that she knew the lines well, that she could not mess up if she wanted to, but if by mere chance, she did, or if she tripped and fell, she would be sorely embarrassed for quite some time. An embarrassment that would hurt Vincent, for whenever his loved ones were hurt, he hurt too.

The young girl was naturally pale, but even more so combined with her stage fright and Mouse's genius lights which, indeed, worked 'better than good, better than best', or at least, so far it did.

She looked at the audience with fear. She didn't know quite why she was afraid. She knew everyone in the audience, except for a few people, and she knew that if she even did mess up, no one would laugh or be mean or say anything about it – none of the adults anyways. And she knew that Vincent believed she could do it, so- wait, Vincent!

Maria searched through the crowd until she found Vincent in the front row, staring at her solemnly with his bright blue eyes. He wasn't too hard to spot, of course, but that was beside the point. He had a look of faith in his eyes, and it was then that she knew, everything way going to be okay.

"'There are fairies at the bottom of our garden! It's not so very, very far away; you pass the gardener's shed and you just keep going straight ahead – I do so hope they've really come to stay'." She found herself quoting the all familiar words of her assigned poem. _This is fun! _She realized as the crowds watched her, seemingly mesmerized. _I can do this!_

_There now, keep going, _Vincent encouraged her silently, hoping to convey the message with his eyes, or a bond or something. He urged her to know that she was doing fine, just fine.

Catherine turned and smiled at Vincent as he silently urged her on. She knew all too well that he was rooting for her, and would not enjoy the show as much as he should if she should mess up. But it wasn't a long poem, so she wasn't worried; everything would be fine, wouldn't it?"

"'She's a little girl all day, but at night she steals away? Well, it's me!'" Maria finished the poem proudly and took a deep curtsey before leaving the stage, during which the crowd applauded politely. She was good though, for an eleven-year-old. If she wasn't so shy amongst strangers, Catherine would wager that she'd be an actress someday.

Vincent breathed a sigh of relief. He was just worried for the children, embarrassed for the children. He knew how hard they worked and how much they deserved for the show to go perfectly. Of course, even if there was a big mistake, and even if everyone in the crowd knew, no one in the crowd would care, but the children would, so Vincent willed for them to do their very best.

Next Thomas came out with _The Wreck of the Hesperus_. "It was the schooner Hesperus that sailed the wintry sea; and the skipper had taken his little daughter, to bear him company. Blue were her eyes as the fairy flax, her cheeks like the dawn of the day, and her bosom white as the hawthorn buds that open in the month of May,'"

Father leaned out of his seat to look over at Vincent, casting his suspicious looks. Why did Vincent assign Thomas this poem? 'Blue were her eyes' and 'her bosom white'? It seemed a certain someone needed to be pulled down from the airy world of lovey-dovey, no matter how wonderful that world may seem while you're in it, it always came crashing down quickly. If he was gently 'lowered' a bit, Father knew it would only be for the best. But just 'lowered' a bit; as much as Jacob hated to admit it, he had been rather wrong. His son had changed since he had met Catherine, and even more so in the past few months. And while he was normally one to dislike change, this change was good. And still, he supposed that Thomas would have chosen to do this poem on his own; it was long, dramatic, and all of the other good things that a poem could be.

Catherine felt Vincent tense up as Thomas finished, leaving the stage with thunderous applause. "What's the matter?" she whispered.

"Lincoln is next." He whispered into her ear.

Catherine nodded, knowing that this was the piece Vincent was most concerned about. After Lincoln was done, Vincent could sit back and _enjoy_ the show. He had every right, as a teacher, to be tense at this moment. Lincoln, the class troublemaker, was supposed to recite _Paul Revere's Ride_, which, in its own right, was a long and difficult poem.

Sure enough, Lincoln did come out next. Calm, cool and collected, he took center stage. "Vincent gave me _Paul Revere's Ride _to recite, but I had a problem with that."

Vincent sucked in a breath. _Here we go, _Vincent thought. _Complete humiliation, embarrassment and disrespect. _He briefly wondered if he should get up and pull Lincoln off the stage before Lincoln said anything more, but before he could, Lincoln did start talking more.

"You see, the problem with _Paul Revere's Ride_ is that it's so easy." Lincoln said, a grin spreading over his face. "So I've taken it upon myself to learn a much harder and more interesting poem, _The Pied Piper of Hamelin_."

A murmur went throughout the chamber, and Catherine could have sworn that both Vincent's eyes and Father's eyes popped out of their skulls in surprise, which she couldn't help but laugh at. Those two men weren't really related, but the way they did things sometimes could definitely be described as 'like father, like son'.

Lincoln took a deep breath before beginning. "'Hamelin Town's in Brunswick, by famous Hanover city; The river Weser, deep and wide, washes its wall on the southern side,'"

Quickly, Vincent pulled the small book of poetry he always kept tucked in his cloak and flipped through the dog-eared book until he found _The Pied Piper of Hamelin_. He quickly scanned the pages. "It has fifteen stanzas!" he whispered to Catherine in amazement. "He memorized it to- to prove me wrong!"

Catherine nodded with a smile on her face. "I think so."

"He did!" Vincent was surprised. "I-I had my doubts that he could memorize _Paul Revere's Ride_, so he took the longest poem he could find and…" his voice trailed, staring at the boy on the stage in surprise. It looked like he owed the boy an apology, for his obvious doubt in him.

Father shook his head in disbelief. He wasn't aware of the whole story behind Vincent giving Lincoln the poem he did. Alas, since Catherine had been Below full-time, abed, Vincent had been spending much of his free time with her, and as a consequence, less with his father. Not that Father really minded; sure he missed his son, their long talks, his son so openly sharing his hearts secrets with him, the special father-son bond that they shared, but he knew that Vincent was doing what he thought best, what _was_ best, to be spending time with

Catherine, the women he loved. So of course, Vincent had failed to mention to Father which poems the children were reciting, any trouble he had with the children and all of that. He had been prepared to be surprised, since he knew Vincent and the children were both hard workers and could accomplish amazing things once their minds were set to it, but Lincoln? Father had expected a one stanza poem, if that. _The children will never seize to amaze me, _he thought, shaking his head.

Lincoln was now on the end of the sixth stanza. "was the exclamation, of the astonished Mayor and Cooperation'."

Vincent couldn't believe it. Lincoln was… was like a clone of Vincent's older brother, Devin! An absolute clone! Vincent was not sure, if Devin had done anything quite like Lincoln had just done, but he was sure if Devin had had the opportunity as a boy to prove his elder's wrong, he would have – and Lincoln had found the perfect way, the perfect example.

Catherine smiled, gazing at Vincent who still seemed to be in shock. _Wait till he gets a load of my surprise! _She thought with a smile. _Oh, and he's so… when he is in shock… I can't even find the words to say how downright… how he looks when he's this way!_

Finally, Lincoln was finishing up. "'So, Willy, let me and you be wipers. Of scores out with all men – especially pipers! And, whether they pipe us free from rats or mice, if we've promised the aught, let us keep our promise!'"

Everyone watching the show hesitated a moment before bursting in thunderous applause, very shocked at what Lincoln had done. No one had known what the boy had had up his sleeve, not even Lincoln's parents, who were very proud, but just as surprised as Vincent, Catherine, and everyone else.

Father leaned over Catherine to talk to Vincent. "There won't be any, er, other surprises, with there?"

Vincent shook his head. "Not that I know of."

"Not for you, anyways." Catherine said, winking at Father, who couldn't help but smile secretly at the young woman.

Vincent gave Father a mock-glare. So he was in on it too! It seemed like everyone knew what his 'surprise' was except for him, which was the point he supposed, but it was still annoyingly frustrating, which, again he supposed, was how he was supposed to feel!

Meg leaned forward to whisper to Catherine. "I don't know anything about poems, but something tells me that that was frightening long."

Catherine nodded. "Definitely the longest poem that will be recited tonight, for sure – or we hope." She laughed. "I was hoping Vincent would be less tense now that Lincoln's done, but now he'll be preparing himself for more shock!"

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

Vincent looked through the crowd of tunnel children as they congratulated each other and were congratulated. They had just come off of the stage and Vincent was trying to find Lincoln. And finally, he did; he found Lincoln alone 'backstage', sitting on a wooden bench, toying with a rubber band.

"Lincoln, why don't you come out?" Vincent suggested.

Lincoln shrugged. "And why exactly do I need people to tell me what I already know?" he referred to the compliments and congratulations he'd surely be getting from the rest of the Tunnel Dwellers, The Helpers who had been able to attend, etc.

Vincent studied Lincoln carefully. "Are you all right?" he asked, sensing that the boy was unhappy.

Lincoln shook his head. "What's it to you?"

"Lincoln, what you did out there was- was pretty impressive." Vincent said, laying his hand on Lincoln's shoulder.

"I could have done better." Lincoln shuddered out of Vincent's touch. "And don't touch me."

Vincent sighed, putting his hand back down. "Lincoln, forgive me for not believing in you. I-I should have. You proved me wrong."

"Sure did, not that that's hard to do." Lincoln scoffed.

Since the copying-out-of-the-dictionary incident, Lincoln hadn't acted up in class, or at least, not much, for which Vincent was grateful. But it seemed he tried to make up for it when they weren't in class.

Vincent frowned. "Lincoln, if you need to talk-"

"I'm fine, okay? Just fine." Lincoln said, exasperated. "I don't know _why_ you keep persisting that I'm not!"

"I did not say anything about your state of well being just now." Vincent reminded Lincoln. "I asked whether you needed to talk or not." He sat down beside Lincoln. "Sometimes I find that when I have problems, or I'm unhappy, or angry, or upset for any reason, that talking about it helps."

"Well, that might work for you, but for some of us, it doesn't." Lincoln scooted down the bench a few inches to distant himself from Vincent. "Besides, all you want to do is nose into my private business."

"Now, you know that that is not true." Vincent protested. "I'm just, well, I'd just like to let you know that while I may be an adult, and your teacher, and-"

"An animal." Lincoln tested Vincent.

Vincent sighed, hating it when Lincoln just flatly defied him like that. "That I'm your friend." Vincent said. "And I'm right here, all the time, so if you ever do change your mind and want to talk-"

"Of course you'll be down here." Lincoln laughed somewhat coldly. "After all, where else are you gonna go?"

Vincent eyed Lincoln carefully. "Lincoln, you know this kind of behavior is not acceptable, not to me or anyone else. I've told you before, that if this keeps up, that I will tell you parents."

Lincoln scoffed. "'My friend'? Yeah, right." He referred to Vincent previous statement.

"I have continued giving you chances, to behave yourself, to turn over a new leaf." Vincent told Lincoln. "But I will tell you now; this is your last one; if I hear another rude comment come out of your mouth, a rude comment to me or anyone else, your parents will know of your actions."

"Ooh, I'm so scared." Lincoln mocked. "They won't care."

"What do you mean?" Vincent's eyebrows furrowed. "Of course they will care! You're their son!"

"So?" Lincoln said carelessly. "They won't do a thing; mark my words."

Vincent nodded slowly. The truth was, he wasn't quite sure what Lincoln's family would do if they knew of their son's actions. They had several kids, six of them, and Lincoln being the oldest, well, it sometimes seemed to Vincent that there might be a little favoritism on the parent's part, working against Lincoln's favor. Or a bit of neglect or lack of attention, though unintentional on the parent's part, Vincent had been wondering awhile if it was there. But out of all of the families that lived Below, Lincoln's family was the one Vincent didn't know overly well, so he couldn't very well pass judgment on the family.

Vincent sighed. "Nevertheless, Lincoln, they are your parents and need to know of your actions." He looked at Lincoln in the eyes. "And while I cannot say I know what it feels like to be in your exact position, I can say I what it feels like; growing up is hard to do, isn't it?"

"What would you know?" Lincoln stood up and started pacing the floor.

"I know because I have done it!" Vincent exclaimed. "Everyone has. And while I cannot relate to how you feel about your parents, or to the way they feel about you, I can assure you that your not the only one that has been there." He was thinking of Devin, who seemed to have been in a very similar position in the past as Lincoln was now. "My brother-"

"You don't have a brother." Lincoln said, angry.

"Yes, I do." Vincent paused. "Devin is-"

"Devin is Father's son, not your brother." Lincoln pointed out. "And Father isn't your father, so Devin can't be your brother."

"Father is my father." Vincent said gently. "Not by blood, perhaps, but he is still my father. And it is the same with Devin. By blood, we are not brothers, but by-"

"By your imagination?" Lincoln scoffed. "Get over it, Vincent; your real parents dumped you."

"That may not be true." Vincent reminded Lincoln. "And even if it is, it does not bother me. However, your talking like that could bother other people, so perhaps you shouldn't-"

"I can talk the way I want." Lincoln rolled her eyes. "That last 'person' I'm going to take instruction from is _you_." He said 'person' as if Vincent wasn't one. "And as soon as I can, I'm going to leave this dump and never take instruction from _anyone_ again."

"Lincoln, Lincoln." Vincent shook his head. It was getting to the point in their 'discussion' that talking any further would only prove to be worthless, a waste of breath, energy, and time. "My bro- Devin said the same thing once. And while the life he has led, from what I know about it, has been very adventurous, exciting and spontaneous, it also seems so… so empty and lonesome. I don't think-"

"So you think living _here_ is better?" Lincoln asked. "This stupid place?"

"Are you ashamed of it?" Vincent asked Lincoln. "Are you embarrassed to live here?"

"I've no friends Above that know I live here." Lincoln said. "But if they did, man, yes, I would be!"

Vincent nodded slowly. "Lincoln, once you are in adult, you may do what you please – no one is stopping you. But until then, do you think you could-"

"Could what?"

"Make life easier for others?" Vincent tried. "Trying not to put people down, trying not to cause trouble, trying to help everyone run everything as smoothly as possible." He looked at Lincoln seriously. "After all, when you are about eighteen to twenty-one, you will be free to leave, but some of us will not. And any damage you leave when you go, well, it is not fair for us to have to deal with." He tried the last approach; the more grown-up, yet a bit selfish sounding one. After that, he would just give up for the time being, go get Catherine and go… wherever she had planned for the night.

Lincoln scoffed and said something under his breath, leaving 'backstage'. Vincent's ears burned with surprise and offense as he heard the words that came out of Lincoln's mouth. Had Lincoln actually said those words? The words said in Lincoln's string of words were abhorrent words that Vincent did not learn until… well, until somewhat recently, since he had met Catherine. Not that Catherine said them, but he was certain he knew her then.

Vincent shook his head. Well, Catherine's plan was still on, but it looked like he had some talking to do. Whether he should talk to Father before confronting Lincoln's parents or not was one thing he was not sure of. _Then again, I can talk to Catherine about it, _he realized, knowing she'd probably know just what to do. _And I can still talk to Father about it. _He felt a little bad that he hadn't been talking and spending time with Father in the last few weeks, but he hoped Father understood. The last couple months had been – crucial to spending time with Catherine and the baby. But luckily Father was understanding of his situation; he understood that Vincent still felt absolutely horrible about the whole situation, about how the baby's existence came about, and he knew that Vincent wanted to spend every spare second he had with Catherine, so he could treasure every moment, lest, God forbid, something happen in the future that would force them to not be together, but apart.


	31. Chapter 31

**A/N: Sorry I've been updating so much lately... I'm just insane :-)**

"Yuck." Catherine made a face, passing the teacup back to Joe. "Thanks, but no thanks."

"What's the matter?" Mike asked who was standing nearby, still feeling very uncomfortable with the seemingly imaginary world he was in – with seemingly imaginary characters. "I thought you liked tea!"

"I did, or I mean, I do." Catherine tried to explain. "Or at least, I thought I did, but, well, I don't know; it's just nasty."

"What is?" Vincent asked, concerned, hearing the very last part of Catherine's sentence. He just finished talking to Lincoln and was returning to get Catherine.

"This tea." Catherine explained. "What's wrong with it? Taste." She motioned for Joe to offer Vincent the teacup.

Vincent hesitated before accepting the teacup. He wasn't quite sure, but something about drinking after Catherine seemed wrong. To place his lips on the brim of the cup, where her lips possibly touched. But then again, they had kissed before, though it did not exist in his memory. Certainly drinking after her couldn't hurt. He took a sip of the tea and shrugged. "It tastes fine to me, Catherine."

She sighed. "Then it must be me, then." She said.

"Sometimes pregnant woman's tastes change." Meg pointed out. "Maybe you just temporarily don't like tea – or permanently." She took a sip of the tea she had just gotten. "Ugh." She made a face. "It's a bit too… something, for my taste."

"English tea." Vincent told her, a smile playing on his face once he realized who had made the tea. "Father most likely made this tea. It can be a bit disconcerting if one is not used to it."

Catherine smiled, thinking about how sometimes it seemed Vincent was not quite American or English – something in between, thanks to Father. "Well, what'd Lincoln say?"

Vincent casting looks to Joe, Meg and Mike before shrugging. "Nothing I did not think he would already say." He said, casting Catherine a look that said 'we'll talk later'.

Joe cleared his throat, nodding. "Yes, well, um, I think you two have a date tonight, don't you?"

Vincent blushed slightly at the word 'date', but luckily, Catherine had it perfectly under control and knew exactly what to say.

"Yes, we do." She laughed. "Are you ready?" she gazed up at Vincent, who was already a good foot taller than her, but seemed so much taller from her position of sitting on a chair.

Vincent nodded. "I believe so." Carefully as to not to hurt her with his clawed fingers and strength, although his fingers were covered by his black gloves, he picked her up. "If you would excuse us?" he asked Joe, Meg and Mike.

"Sure thing!" Joe laughed. "Have fun, Radcliffe!" he winked at her, making Vincent redden even more. What was it that Catherine had in mind? Hopefully nothing, um, scandalous?

"Father," Vincent approached Father, who was in a deep discussion with Peter and another Helper, Lewis, who was also a doctor.

"Yes, Vincent, we were just speaking of you." Lewis said.

"Of me, sir?" Vincent asked the older man, politely.

Lewis shook his head. "I will never comprehend your amazing strength." Lewis said, referring to Vincent's holding Catherine.

Vincent ducked his head, embarrassed by the attention and turned his heads to Father. "Father? Catherine and I are leaving now, if that is fine with you."

Father nodded. "Good then. What time do you expect to be back?"

"I am not sure." Vincent faltered. He looked at Catherine. "Catherine?"

"Before two, I should imagine." Catherine verified. "If that's okay with you?"

Vincent nodded. "Around two, I should imagine."

Father nodded, planting a kiss on Vincent's furred cheek. "Be careful." He warned.

"We will." Catherine said, Vincent turning to walk away, hearing Lewis commenting something about 'still asking daddy after all these years'. She looked up at the sapphire-blue eyes she loved so much once they were out of ear-range of everyone. "Who was that man?"

"Dr. Lewis." Vincent told her. "He is very inquisitive, especially when it comes to… me, but he is harmless, I assure you."

"Dr. Lewis?" She questioned. "Aren't you a little too old to be calling him 'Dr. Lewis'? Wouldn't 'Lewis' be fine?"

Vincent shook his head. "I have known him since I was a boy, no older than eight-years-old. I called him Dr. Lewis then."

"But you've known Peter all your life, and you just call him Peter." Catherine pointed out.

"Well," Vincent slightly repositioned the woman in his arms. "Once I started calling Peter by his name, rather than adding the prefix 'Dr.', he did not say anything, except perhaps nod his approval. Dr. Lewis, on the other hand, has made it clear, that all 'children' call him by his proper name," he shook his head. "Though I can hardly be described as a child."

"So he's eccentric?" Catherine asked. "Cool. How'd you meet him?"

"Like I said, I was eight." Vincent said. "I have no recollection of meeting him, only knowing I must have been around that age." He stopped walking and speaking. "Um, Catherine? Where are we headed? I do not know if I am going the wrong way or-"

"Can we please stop by the baby's chamber first?" Catherine asked. "I want to get my jacket – I think, knowing New York weather in October, it's probably chilly."

Vincent nodded, going in the direction of her chamber. "Mike seems to be… adjusting well."

She shrugged. "It seems that he and Meg are having some problems."

Vincent raised his brows. "Are you sure Meg did not tell you this assuming confidentiality?" he asked. "I do not want you telling me unless she knows I know."

Catherine nodded as they entered her chamber. "She knows that I'd share this with you. Spouses are usually allowed to know such information." She reddened a bit. "Not that I meant you and I- or, well, you know."

Vincent nodded, gently setting Catherine on the bed. "I understand? Now, where is your jacket?" he changed to rather awkward subject.

"Over there." Catherine motioned to a chair that it had been slung over.

Vincent eyed the light blue jacket and picked it up, bringing it over to the bed where Catherine was sitting. Lightly he placed it over her shoulders. "Anything else?" he asked her.

She nodded. "This." She picked up the picnic basket, filled with the smuggled goodies. "But don't peek." She warned him.

"I won't." he assured her, picking her up again, she holding the basket. "Anything else?"

She thought a moment before shaking her head. "No, not unless you need anything."

Which he didn't. "Then we are to go Above then? Which entrance?"

"Central Park." She told him. "If that's okay with you."

"That's fine." He said, walking out of the chamber, Catherine in his arms.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"Right here should be fine." Catherine said suddenly, at a rather isolated part of Central Park.

Vincent looked around. They were not too far from the Tunnels entrance, which was a good thing. With Catherine heavily pregnant, if there were any problems, well, it would just be best. And it was a nice spot. The grass was nice and green, and it was in a more isolated area, where they would be undisturbed. _What _does _she have in mind? _He couldn't help but be the slightest bit worried.

"Can you sit me down right there?" Catherine pointed to a bench, to which Vincent obliged her. She reached into the basket and pulled out a white and blue checkered blanket. "Can you spread this on the ground?"

"On the ground?" Vincent echoed, taking the blanket from her and laying it on the ground, spreading it out.. "Like this?"

"Good." Catherine said. "Now can we sit on it?"

"Sit on it?" Vincent questioned, transporting her from the bench to the blanket, which was lying on the soft grass, and then sitting next to her.

"Mmm-Hmmm." Catherine said, putting her arms inside the sleeves of her jacket and then snuggling up to Vincent. "We couldn't spend Halloween Below, but because of the baby, spending it Above is hard too." Her eyes twinkled with delight. "This is a good compromise, don't you think? We're still alone, undisturbed, Above, for as long as we want, but its nothing extremely exerting on me or dangerous for you or-"

"It is perfect." Vincent told her, wrapping his arms around her, wanting to keep her warm from the chilly air. With all his layers of clothing, his cloak, and his fur, he wasn't cold, but he knew that Catherine probably was a bit cold.

He looked at her eyes, sparkling green. Suddenly he realized something. "That is not the end to the surprise, is it?"

"No, its not." Catherine laughed. "I was wondering how long it'd take you to figure that one out." She motioned to the picnic basket, lying on the blanket. "There is hot chocolate, wine, and chocolates in there."

"Wine and chocolate?" Vincent repeated. Such food was a luxury and a rarity Below, and whenever it was Below, it was for special occasions, and then the chocolate only for the children, and the wine, well, it never went too far, there being a vast amount of adults, and Vincent, never being the greedy type, had never had any, always giving his portion of it to someone else.

"Yep." Catherine said, sliding the basket over to them. "I couldn't help but notice that these sort of things were never Below, except during Winterfest and such, and even then, you hadn't had any." She opened the box of chocolates and tried to hand him a piece. "Want some?"

Hesitantly, Vincent took it from her and looked it over with interest. "Catherine, I have not indulged in such a treat since I was a boy. It has been…" he shook his head, "so long that I cannot even begin to count the years. Since I was at least twelve, I think. Such treats are for the children."

"Well, then," Catherine urged him, "Don't you want some? This is a special treat for just you and I; have as much as you want."

Vincent turned the solid brown sweet over in his hand. "Are you sure, Catherine?" he asked her.

That was one thing that bugged her about him. He was so hesitant, so careful! He wanted to make sure he was doing each and every thing right! "Yes, I'm sure." Catherine told him. "I've been planning this for weeks – how could I not be sure?"

Looking from Catherine, to the chocolate, Vincent took a small bite of it. The chocolaty taste spread around his mouth as it melted, making his mouth water. He gave Catherine a small smile. "Thank you." He said softly.

She wasn't so sure he was talking about the chocolate. She took a piece of chocolate herself and took a bite. "Mmm," she said. "Are you surprised?"

"Speechless." He told her, taking another small bite of the delicacy. He had to make it last. "Is it the last of the surprises?"

"Well, would you like some wine with that chocolate?" she asked him, teasingly.

He shook his head. "Not now, Catherine, but thank you."

"So, what did you think of the children's performance?" Catherine asked Vincent. "Did it go as you wanted it to? As you expected?"

"Better than expected." Vincent said. "And very much as I wanted it to. The children are pleased, their 'audience' was pleased… what did you think of it?" he asked her.

"It went great." She said. "The little ones were cute, reciting their poems on 'little people' and 'elves', and some of the older children are very talented." She shook her head. "Thomas and Lincoln are both going places."

Vincent nodded, a sigh escaping him. "Yes, it would not surprise me if Thomas should become a famous author or poet, or some sort of literary figure someday. He really enjoys it, and certainly has a knack for words and language."

"And Lincoln?" Catherine prodded. "I was really doubtful about _Paul Revere's Ride_, but I should have known that he'd just try to show you up."

Vincent nodded. "Well, it proves that he can do things once he puts his mind to it." He said. "Unfortunately, I am afraid he's having some other problems right now to explain his attitude change of late."

He explained how Lincoln said his parents didn't care what he did or said, and how Lincoln had opened Vincent's eyes to some possible… something going on. "I do not know if it is favoritism or if it is just Lincoln trying to separate himself from his parents or vice-versa…" he sighed. " I am afraid to get involved any further though; it isn't really any of my business."

"Well, he's your student, and all the Tunnelers are like family, aren't they?" Catherine reasoned out loud. "But then again," she shifted her weight, "you have enough issues going on as it is. It's not like you need more pressures."

Vincent nodded, studying the woman who was so calmly lying against him. He was lying down, propped up on her side and an elbow, her lying against him. She was so... trusting. And when she looked at him, she didn't bat an eye.

"He might just be a bit embarrassed." Catherine continued.

"What do you mean?" Vincent cocked his head, wondering what on earth Lincoln had to be embarrassed about. It was not like Lincoln resembled something of a feline and a monster.

"Well, how old is he getting to be, fifteen now?" Catherine said. "He's probably got two or three friends Above, I gather."

Vincent shook his head. "Father certainly disapproves of it, but yes, I am sure that all of Lincoln's 'friends' are not all Tunnel Dwellers."

_And now, not all of yours are either, _Catherine thought with a small smile. "Well, he dresses different, has to act different, probably lie a bunch, and with his rebellious nature, plus the rebellion that comes with being a teenager, he probably wishes he lived Above, with a normal family, normal school, normal everything. Although his 'friends' don't know about Below, it probably still embarrasses Lincoln, you know?"

Vincent nodded, having a rather good idea of where Catherine was coming from. Lincoln was pining for another life, as everyone did sometimes, and was angry because he couldn't have one, embarrassed of his current life, his parents, his family, his-

"Do you think our baby will be ashamed?" Vincent asked suddenly, his thoughts turning to something else.

"Ashamed?" Catherine asked in surprise. "Ashamed of what? What will our baby have to be ashamed of?"

"Me." Vincent said bluntly, not caring to 'beat around the bush'. "I can only imagine that-"

"Our baby will have grown up with you as its father, and won't know any different." Catherine reminded him.

"But eventually, rather soon into its life, in fact, we will have to explain my existence, my nature, my..." Vincent shook his head. "By the time I was four years of age, I knew I was very different from the other children. And even if our baby does look normal, Catherine, by the time it is eight or ten, he will have questions, to be sure." Vincent shook his head, the now familiar guilty feeling plaguing him once again.

"Vincent?" Catherine said softly, feeling a slight wave of guilt in him. If she felt what he was feeling at all, he was usually feeling it at a much more intense scale. And she was sure about what he was feeling guilty over. "Don't feel bad," she told him. "Regardless of how you look, of how the baby looks, you know that I – and everyone else Below – love you both, and will forever. You know that."

Vincent again shook his head. "It is not that I have doubt in your love, Catherine." he told her. "Whilst I do not understand it, I feel it, and I am grateful for it. I..." his voice cracked, "I just do not want to be the one responsible for our child's life of possible... isolation, aloneness, and misery. I just..." he shook his head, knowing all too well what it felt like to be isolated, alone and miserable. "It is hard to explain, to put into words, Catherine, unless you have been there."

Catherine didn't know what to say, or if she should say anything. She knew Vincent was right, that if their child was even the slightest bit like him, he or she would have to stay Below for the rest of its life unless under the cover of darkness. It would have to go through the pain, wonderment, loneliness, and everything else that Vincent had to go through daily, at least until he met her.

But she didn't have to say anything, it turned out; Vincent wasn't finished.

"To have to watch our child cry because he cannot go Above, to hear her complain because she is not like 'everyone else'..." Vincent shook his head. "Don't you see, Catherine? It is my entire fault. The child will blame me – and rightfully so!"

"Vincent, our child will love you." Catherine assured him. "Sure he or she will get mad at you – and me, especially when he or she gets older, but all kids are that way – take Lincoln for example."

He just couldn't explain it, the ripping feeling that went through his chest every time he thought about it. There was no way he could be responsible for another person's loneliness and isolation, and yet, he was. Just the thought in general saddened him... he couldn't put it into words.

Catherine sat up, turning to face Vincent. "Vincent, I know that your worried, scared, an a million other things – I am too." she sighed. "Tonight isn't turning out like it's supposed to."

Vincent shook his head. "I just have this odd feeling that I can't describe..."

Catherine nodded. "I know you do." she sighed. "Vincent, look, it seems like no matter how many times we go over this, you can't seem to keep it straight; it's not your fault. _Nothings _your fault. There's not really even fault here to begin with!"

Vincent let out a deep breath, trying to figure out what to say to Catherine. Yes, she was right; it was not his _fault_, really, that Catherine's firstborn child could easily look like... a monster. As far as Vincent knew, it was _nobody's _fault. But looks weren't really the thing Vincent was worried about. It was the effect the child's looks – and nature – would have on his or herself. The hours spent in loneliness, pain, grief, confusion, rage, and tears were still all to clear in Vincent's mind, and the mere thought of their child going through the same was... horrible beyond words.

He sighed. "Perhaps we should change the subject?" he suggested, knowing that the night was already beginning to have a sour note in it.

"Joe says Moreno is rather irritated, me not being there. He said that it is nearly worth hiring someone temporarily to take my shoes, only then who would be getting all the paperwork done?" Catherine changed the subject easily.

Vincent chuckled. "Is there anything I can do to help you with all of it?"

Catherine shook her head. "Not unless you've got a degree in law, are familiar with what I'm even filing papers on, and more." She sighed. "I feel kind of bad even calling it 'work' – I do it in my bed. Everyone else Below works so hard physically that-"

"You are working hard with your mind, and accomplishing tasks." Vincent reminded her. "And are due in a month. None of us are expecting any more than-"

Suddenly he was interrupted by a quick gasp from Catherine. He turned and looked at her quickly, placing on arm on her shoulder protectively. "Catherine, what is it?"

"Nothing." Catherine said with a slight laugh. "The baby just kicked, is all. Feel." She took Vincent's furred and clawed hand and placed it on her enlarged belly.

Vincent felt… pleasurably uncomfortable, sitting there, in such an… intimate physical action with Catherine. One that made him want to shudder with pure delight. And sub-consciously, he was glad she placed his hand there so quickly, without one thought as to what his strong hands and claws could or would do to her. She was so… vulnerable, yet trusting…

He suddenly felt the baby kicking Catherine's stomach, and pulled back in astonishment. Catherine giggled. "Keep feeling – he's still kicking."

She reached and put his shy and tentative, strong and callused hand over her stomach again, knowing he enjoyed touching her in the most intimate way he ever remembered experiencing with her, and making physical contact with the baby as well. And she couldn't deny that she didn't feel a pleasant, tingling, sensational, arousal herself.


	32. Chapter 32

**A/N: Sorry I haven't updated; been neck-deep in this crap; /petition/moonlightback/index.html . If you could sign this petition, it would mean the world to me. After all, it is for the creator of BATB's new show...**

Vincent opened his eyes, suddenly alert. It took a moment for his mind to seemingly settle into place, to realize that he was in bed, that he just woke up, and all that, as it does everyone when they first woke up. His eyes quickly adapted to the darkness; he could see in the darkness without a problem, unlike everyone else he knew.

_Why have I woken up?_ he wondered, using a furred knuckle to carefully wipe the sleep out of his eyes. The last thing he needed to do was scratch his eye out or get fur in his eye.

He knew without looking at the time that it wasn't yet daylight Above. Nowhere near time to get up. He lit the big fat candle on the nightstand next to him, so he could read the lettering on his pocket watch that lay next to the candle. As impressive as his night-seeing abilities were, in the pitch black chamber, he couldn't see great detail, like the numbers and handles on the watch.

It was 2:45 in the morning. He shook his head. He had only been abed for an hour. Why on earth would he wake up so suddenly, so-

Suddenly his heart began to race. He felt Catherine, a bit of worry, a bit of excitement, a bit of fear. It seemed that she was trying to hide these feelings from him, and was doing a relatively good job of it; he had been awake for two minutes and it usually never took him that long to feel her.

He leapt out of bed, acting on impulse, to go see what was troubling her. She could manage on her own, obviously, as she had before they met. But he knew she was awake, and for whatever the reason, he could most likely be of some use.

He grabbed the trousers he had laid over a chair only an hour ago and pulled them up his legs, hastily and sloppily tucking in his nightshirt, and then grabbed his boots, pulling them over his feet without bothering to first put on socks, which he knew he would soon regret.

But he didn't really care. He had to go see Catherine - something was pulling him to the chamber just five paces from his, and he only wanted to take the time to put on the absolute necessities; boots and trousers – he already had on his nightshirt. It wasn't like he was going to spend the day dressed like that.

He poked his head out of his chamber, seeing if anyone was around. No one was. He suddenly wished he had some sort of mirror in his chamber to know what he looked like, but he already knew; a mess, or at least, worse than usual. He knew his mane was probably sticking out all over the place, knotted, and his fur was too, more than likely. And he usually dealt with these duties before seeing anyone, especially Catherine, but something felt so... so urgent. He couldn't quite place it.

He quickly walked, or more like half-ran, to Catherine's chamber. It was still all aglow with candles that he could see through the closed curtain. _That is odd_, he thought, eyebrows furrowed. _Usually she likes it almost as dark as I, though I cannot imagine why; she must not be able to see a thing with the chamber that dark._

He hesitated outside her chamber. Should he call through, or just go in? If he called through the curtain, he'd risk waking someone else up, but if he didn't... no, he had to call her through the curtain.

"Catherine," he said quietly. "Catherine, may I come in?" No reply, so he tried again. "Catherine, may I come in?" Still no reply. "It's Vincent - can I come in?" Still nothing. He shook his head. Well, he couldn't talk any louder than he was now; words echoed off of the Tunnel walls too easily.

He took a deep breath, trying to ignore what he was doing, and poked his head in her chamber. It seemed so... improper and inappropriate, but he just had to check on her.

It took a second for his eyes to adjust to the sudden light, as there was much more of it in Catherine's chamber then there had been in the corridor or his own chamber. But the first thing he noticed was that she was not in her bed.

Alarmed, Vincent quickly scanned the rest of the chamber. She was not supposed to leave that bed, unless she was carried or in a wheelchair or something like that! Luckily, she obviously hadn't gone too far; there was a rocking chair not six feet from her bed, and she was sitting in it, rocking back and forth, facing away from him, humming.

Curious, Vincent took a step into the chamber and started coming slowly towards her. She obviously hadn't heard him ask permission to come in, nor did she notice his coming in behind her, obviously consumed with whatever she was doing.

"Catherine?" He tried again, feeling a bit guilty for watching her when she didn't see him. That would give her chances to do or say things she wouldn't if he was around, and give him the chance to think and feel things that, while he loved to feel and think of, he hated it at the same time. The good and longing thoughts and feelings, and the things his imagination often demanded to think of, accompanied some bitterness with the sweetness.

At the sound of his voice, she stopped rocking. "Vincent?" she asked, surprised, turning her head to see him.

He was about to explain why he came in without letting her know first, but didn't and instead came over to her. "Catherine! What are you doing awake? It is only three in the morning!"

"I know it." Catherine said with a soft smile. "But I, er, couldn't sleep."

Vincent looked at her, full of doubt. "You were exhausted. And you did sleep; before I fell asleep, I felt-" he looked at her, puzzled. "And why do you try to hide your feelings from me? Your fear, worry and excitement? I can feel it." he got down on one knee in front of her.

"I just... I just didn't want to wake you up." she said. "It's the truth."

He sighed. "And I should like to believe you." he told her sincerely. "But your eyes, and your heart, tell me otherwise. What is it?"

Catherine shook her head. "Nothing - just go back to bed."

Hurt was building up inside of him. She was certainly hiding something from him. Yes, she was, he had no doubts. But why was she doing that? He tried to give her everything he could; his world, his life, his emotions - everything, and for some reason she was denying him something? But then again, on the other hand, she was so generous, and rarely denied him anything, obviously, seeing is how she was supposed to deliver his baby the next month. And certainly he had no right to ask that she share what she was feeling and why, but then again, maybe he did have the right. He was about to be the father of their child, and what if it had to do with the baby? And while it was a little... odd to think about, although they were not married, she did sort of belong to him, didn't she? Did he have the sort of... dominance over her the way a husband typically did over a wife? Dominance; no that was the wrong word.

He cleared his throat. "Catherine, please." he told her. "I... I need to know. If something concerns you, it concerns me as well. And whether it is something important, or something that amounts to almost nothing, I feel that... that I have the right to know. Please?" he asked her, knowing he was begging, something he wasn't exactly used to.

She sighed. "I've woke up awhile ago with a backache. I thought sitting up might help it. It's nothing important." She tried to assure him.

Vincent looked at her carefully in the eyes. "You're sure? You know Catherine, though the baby is not due for a month, there is some chance that you could be having contractions."

Catherine shook her head. "No, it's too early. And besides, its pain in my back."

"Back labor." Vincent said suddenly. "Depending on which way the baby is facing-"

"I don't think they are contractions, Vincent." Catherine laughed nervously. "Usually the pain is just a normal ache, sometimes a little bit intense, but contractions have to hurt worse than my back does."

Vincent's brows furrowed. "Are you trying to say that sometimes the pain is more intense than other times?" he asked her. "How far apart are-"

"Does it matter?" Catherine asked, annoyed with him. "They aren't contractions; I'd think I would know if they were."

Vincent took in a long breath, willing himself to remain calm. "Catherine, I woke with a feeling. I felt some fear and excitement in you, and a feeling of… something else. A feeling that something is wrong."

"Well, nothings wrong." Catherine brushed him off, not wanting to think that anything could possibly be out of ordinary. "Pregnant women have backaches, Vincent. Look it up."

"With occasional contraction-type pains?" Vincent raised his eyebrows. "I do not think so, Catherine. Please, let me get Father."

"No." Catherine said firmly. "Even if they were contractions – and I'm not saying that they are – then it would be hours before Father's assistance is needed. I'm feeling these more intense pains about twenty minutes apart, in case your curious. If I was Above, I wouldn't have to go to the hospital until they were five minutes apart, which would be a long time from now."

"But you aren't Above," Vincent gently reminded her, a feeling building up inside of him. A feeling of urgency, a feeling of… he felt so many irregular feelings that it would not surprise him at all if Catherine _was_ having contractions. He was almost certain that she was.

"You are Below," He continued, searching for his next words. "And if you were pregnant with, say, Elliot's child, no, I would not get Father. Waking him up at this hour would be completely unnecessary." He looked deep into her eyes, trying to convey the message that he knew everyone was aware of, that he wasn't ashamed to admit, but didn't thoroughly enjoy talking about just the same. "But you are pregnant with…" he shook his head, getting back up on his feet, intent on going to get Father.

"Vincent, don't you dare!" Catherine cried. "It's just a backache… its not contractions! If you dare wake Father up, then I'll…" she faltered, knowing that there was absolutely nothing that she could threaten him with, because she either didn't have the heart, or because Vincent was too strong for the threats or consequences to hurt him.

He sighed, wishing that for five minutes, Catherine would think through the circumstances reasonably, instead of thinking with her hormones. "Catherine, this birth is very… uncertain. You could easily be going into labor; the baby would be a mere month premature. And back labor is possible."

Catherine shook her head. "No one in my family was born prematurely." She said. "I doubt that my baby would be the first."

"I was very small when I was found." Vincent reminded her. "We do not know if I was born early, or any other events that took place during my birth, for that matter." He started for the chamber door. "I am getting Father."

"Vincent, wait!" Catherine called after him, but he ignored her, intent on getting Father. He left the chamber.

Catherine sighed, angry tears building up in her eyes. She was _not_ having contractions. Vincent was overreacting. How horribly embarrassing! Now he would go wake up Father at three in the morning, who would have to hobble over all the way to her chamber for _nothing_. How humiliating! She had been angry a lot at Vincent these past few months, but this incident was the worst. She couldn't imagine _ever_ being as angry at Vincent as she was now.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

Vincent hurried down the corridor. He wasn't overreacting, was he? From the sounds of it, every twenty minutes, Catherine was having some more intense pain in her back than the normal ache she felt. He was no where near a doctor, but if Catherine was that close to the due date of the baby, then couldn't they be contractions? Luckily, Father was a doctor. He'd take care of everything; he always did in matters such as these, after all.

Vincent remembered making the journey down the dim corridor to Father's chamber in the middle of the night well. He had done so, oh, probably a thousand times before. As a child, whenever he had had nightmares, he would go seek out Father for comfort. He had shared a chamber with Devin when they were children, but Devin was never a source for comfort. He'd always tell Vincent to shut up, stop his babbling and go to sleep, or, if he was in a particularly good mood, he would have teased Vincent endlessly. So braving the dim corridor was worth it, despite anything that might be lurking in the shadows.

Vincent hurried into Father's chamber, not bothering to get consent before coming in. He never had. Father slept like a rock, and would never be woken by mere whispering through the curtain.

Vincent crept over to Father's bed, where Father lied, snoring loudly, as he had always done. A feeling of déjà vu washed over Vincent, and he couldn't help but give a small smile, remembering his childhood. He hadn't crept into Father's chamber like this since… forever, it seemed.

He walked on the balls of his feet, though he really didn't have to. He walked so silently all the time – he could run without anyone hearing his footsteps, naturally. But on the natural human impulse, he tip-toed.

"Father?" Vincent shook Father awake. "Father? Father, please wake up!"

Father sat up suddenly. "What? What is it? What is wrong?" he blinked sleepily at Vincent. "Vincent? What is it?"

"It's Catherine." Vincent said. "She says she has a backache, but I think it is more than that. There is intense pain that comes about every twenty minutes, and though its in her back, I think it may be-"

"Back labor." Father finished his son's sentence, sliding his legs over the bed and slipping his feet into his well-worn slippers. "How long are her pains lasting?"

"I do not know." Vincent confessed. "But there is something else, Father. I… I awoke with a feeling. I think that something is wrong, or that it is time… or something. Catherine is worried, I can feel, and excited, and now she's angry at me because I-"

Father held up his hand, knowing Vincent would go on and on in his worry if he didn't interrupt. "Where is she?" he pulled on his equally well-worn, threadbare dressing gown.

"In her chamber, as always." Vincent said, beginning to pace the floor. "Father, what can I do?"

"Nothing right now." Father told him. "I do not think getting Peter is necessary unless they are truly contractions. Why don't you stay here?" he suggested. "If Catherine is angry, we do not want her to get even more worked up." He lit a candle off of the big fat one that was on the stand next to his bed.

Vincent wringed his hands together. "Is there anything else I can do to help?" he asked him, the need to stay busy showing in his eyes clearly.

Father sighed. "What time is it?"

"Three o'clock." Vincent stated, rounding the time off.

"Why don't you go for a walk?" Father suggested, hardly believing the words that were coming out of his own mouth. For once, he was actually sending Vincent Above for a leisurely walk! _I must be losing my mind, _he thought, rubbing his temples.

"A walk? Above?" Vincent asked in doubt. "Father, are you sure? How will that help? Will-"

"Yes, I am sure, and it will help you calm down." Father told his son. "If Catherine is indeed in labor, then, as I have told the two of you before I imagine it will be a long hard labor. You will be here Below for hours on end, likely driving yourself to madness." He didn't bother to say 'the sickness' instead. "Go. Go clear your head. It will do you good."

Vincent nodded, knowing that Father knew that Vincent would be more of a nuisance than a help if this was indeed, a very, _very_ early stage of labor. And though Vincent was tired, he knew he'd never be able to go to sleep. Yes, a walk Above would do him some good. And besides, it was still Halloween – for Vincent, the safest night of the year.

"Would you care for me to stop by Peter's or Meg's to tell them that Catherine could possibly be having contractions?" Vincent asked.

Father nodded. "That would be fine. Tell them that if they are contractions, they are in only a very early stage. Tell them they needn't come down until morning, unless someone come gets them beforehand."

"I will just get my cloak then." Vincent said, turning to leave Father's chamber, his heart pounding. Was Catherine really going into labor? Was it really possible? He was just getting used to the fact that she was pregnant, that a baby had been conceived. It didn't seem possible at all.

_Will Catherine make it through the delivery all right? _Vincent wondered for the millionth time, reaching his chamber. _Will the baby make it through all right? And how will the baby be? Will it be all right? As in, will it look like Catherine?_

Vincent could only hope so. Catherine was the most beautiful… the most beautiful being in the universe, Vincent was sure. And he was, well, he didn't care to know where he ranked, besides, he already thought he knew. Yes, the baby should look just like Catherine.

_But that is impossible. _Vincent reasoned, grabbing his cloak off of a chair and wrapping it around himself. _The baby will indefinitely be carrying some of my genes, which means it will be different to some degree. It being normal would be impossible._

Vincent hated to admit it to himself, but it was true, Yes, the child would be loved regardless of its looks, at least Below, but it would not be able to take advantage of everything life had to offer, something Vincent wanted so badly for their child.

Vincent left his chamber and then paused outside the baby's chamber, where he could here Catherine grumbling or something. Father hadn't yet arrived. Vincent briefly considered stepping inside, to tell her that Father was on his way, to tell Catherine that he loved her, or some other words of comfort, but decided against it. That was another reason Father did not want Vincent around, because there was no need in risking getting Catherine all worked up over something if it wasn't necessary. That would not be good for either Catherine or the baby.

Vincent continued down the corridor, heading towards the Central Park entrance Above. He didn't know whether to hope Catherine was going into labor or not. On one hand, he was not yet sure, that he was ready to be a father, but on the other hand, he could not wait for the baby to be born.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

Catherine groaned with frustration, and of course, in slight pain. Why did Vincent have to overreact? It was just a bit of back pain, big deal. And yet he insisted on going to get Father to check on her, in the middle of the night! It was crazy.

_You know he means well, _Catherine reminded herself. _He just wants to make sure you and the baby are just fine._

Catherine shook her head. She understood what Vincent was saying, that she could possibly, just possibly, be having back labor, which meant that it could indeed me 'time'. But it most likely wasn't, and even if it was, Catherine's water wouldn't break for simply hours. There was just no need to wake anyone up yet!

_But it is a special case, _she reasoned with a sigh. Still, it was a bit embarrassing, for Father to have to come all the way over to the chamber for absolutely nothing.

She heard Father clear his throat outside the chamber, signaling his arrival. "Catherine?"

"Come in." she sighed reluctantly.

Father stepped in, looking very concerned as he made his way to Catherine. "Catherine, Vincent told me that you-"

"It's nothing." Catherine interrupted. "Just some pain - it's no big deal."

Father eyed her curiously. "Are you sure?"

Catherine sighed, exasperated. "Yes! I'm sure!" she laughed a bit self-consciously at her outburst. "Pregnancy is full of aches and pains, I've found out." she stated.

Father nodded. "Do you mind if I, er, check you over anyhow, Catherine?"

She shrugged. "Couldn't hurt, but its unnecessary, I assure you."

Father sat down across from Catherine, using his cane to keep him from quite literally falling into the chair. "And Catherine, I was wondering if I couldn't have a word with you."

"Of course!" Catherine said. "What about?"

Er, yourself," Father said, "and your relationship with my son."

"Father," Catherine tried, "We have been over this a great deal of times. You know perfectly well how Vincent and I-"

"Hush, dear Catherine." Father interrupted gently. "I do not intend to scold you."

Catherine wrinkled her forehead. Now _that_ was unexpected. Father wasn't going to make a big deal about her and Vincent's relationship, and he had countless times. "You aren't?"

"Least ways I do not plan to." Father modified his original statement. "I actually want to apologize."

"For what?" Catherine asked him, curious as to what he meant by what he just said.

"For doubting you." Father said. "And for doubting both Vincent's and your better judgment."

Catherine couldn't believe her ears. Father wasn't actually saying he approved of her and Vincent together? He couldn't be! She had never expected to hear him admit of approval, in any form!

"I was wrong," Father continued slowly. "I thought that your relationship with Vincent was a dreadful mistake. That it was just a phase you were going through after your trauma, that maybe you wanted something..." he shook his head. "Now I see just how foolish I was for thinking that."

Catherine's thoughts raced. She didn't know whether she should speak or not. If she did, she might wake up and find it was just a dream.

"Over the past several months, I have watched you. Your smiles, laugher, and strength when you are around Vincent, the way one would be when they truly are in love." Father said. "And more shockingly, perhaps, the smiles and laughter in my son, when he is around you." Father took a deep breath. "You have become like a daughter to me, Catherine. Can you ever forgive me for my doubting you?"

"Yes!" Catherine said instantaneously, overjoyed.

Father was taken aback. He was almost sure that the young woman would forgive him for his foolish actions, as she had a very gracious heart, but he wasn't expecting it so quickly.

"Well then, thank you Catherine." Father managed to say. "Now is there any way you could get back over to the bed? I hate to ask this of you, but I think I should check on you and the baby, just in case."

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

Vincent raced though the park. At the mere four o'clock in the morning like it was, not many people were up and about New York City's Central Park. And that was good. Very good. If Catherine was indeed having the baby, then a walk, or more like a run, would do him good. It would relieve him of that growing nervous tension building up in his chest, burn up the nervous energy he was feeling.

He could still hardly believe that Catherine was pregnant. As much as Catherine has assured him that their having sex had been a good thing, that he hadn't hurt her, it did no good. He was not supposed to make love with her, or anyone for that matter, at all. Not under any circumstances, no matter how much he loved her or under the seemingly miraculous circumstance, her love to him. He was supposed to avoid any kind of physically romantic love at all cost. How could he have messed up like that? And he hurt her! He did, just like Father had said he would. And perhaps the worst part of it all was that he couldn't remember it. Not a moment. Not a word. Not a sight. Not... anything. And it was an experience he knew with all his heart that he'd never relive again.

And yet, Catherine seemed perfectly fine with it. It didn't seem to occur to her that she had made love with someone who wasn't quite human, that her baby could have unknown... disorders, that she might not live through the pregnancy or birth, that... she ignored all the possibilities - and probabilities. Well, she did not exactly ignore them - she just was not that worried about them. Vincent couldn't understand that. He felt her feelings, she shared a majority of her thoughts with him, and when she didn't, he could usually judge by their bond of what she was thinking. And she wasn't worried about the baby, about herself. She just assumed everything would be fine, go like clockwork. and he rather admired it. Sure, there was a bit of concern to be had, but she didn't even pause to dwell on what she couldn't change. She was just going with the flow, enjoying every moment that life had to offer.

But Vincent felt like he couldn't do that. He felt so... so responsible. Responsible for everything that had happened. And if the baby ended up like him... how could Vincent cause so much grief for another person? It didn't seem fair, or right.

Vincent stopped running for a mere second to catch his breath before beginning to familiar ascent to Catherine's balcony. He knew that Meg would never forgive him if he didn't tell her that something was going on with Catherine and the baby.

He pushed himself onto the balcony, landing lightly on his feet. He quickly looked around to make sure no one was on the neighboring balconies. No one was, so he proceeded to push back his hood, so that when Meg or her husband did answer to his light tapping on the door, they would know it was him. The hood made it hard to tell, which its original intent was.

He tapped on the door lightly with his claws. There was no answer, but Vincent was not surprised. It was still very early in the morning, not yet dawn. Mike and Meg were surely still sound asleep.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

Wearily, Mike opened one eye, and then the other. _What's that sound? _he wondered. Mike was a very light sleeper.

Careful not to wake his wife, Mike tiredly slipped out of bed, his body immediately missing the warm blankets and body heat that the bed and Meg provided him, and of course, Bailee and Cameryn, who had both apparently decided to join them sometime in the night.

The light tapping sound continued as Mike stumbled into the living room with adjoining kitchen. He turned his tired head to the French doors, where he saw the face of a beast.

Mike nearly jumped out of his skin at the sight of… Vincent_. Oh, right, _Mike remembered, somewhat sheepishly. In his tired state, he had forgotten about the previous night, that Meg's wild tales of 'Below' and 'Vincent' were true.

Mike came over to the doors and opened it, the cool November air blowing into Catherine's well-heated apartment. "Vincent," Mike said, looking over the half-man, half-beast that towered over him. "What is it? Come in?"

Vincent shook his head. He had only crossed Catherine's threshold a small number of times, to resist temptation, and he couldn't help but remember the last time, where he had stayed until sunup. No, even though Catherine was not in her apartment, he could not risk it.

"Vincent, what is it?" Meg asked in a surprised, hush voice. She stood in Catherine's bedroom doorway, wrapping a robe around herself. "What's wrong? Come in! It's freezing out there!"

The cold was the last thing that bothered Vincent right then. He was too worried about Catherine to be cold, and besides, was covered in thick layers of fur, wool, and other warm and heavy clothing.

"It's Catherine." Vincent said, not stepping in. "She woke up some time ago, feeling pains." He took a deep breath. "They may be false contractions, or something similar but…" he stopped, trying to figure out how to explain how he just _knew_ that it was more than false contractions, that something was wrong.

"You feel it?" Meg asked, a bit of alarm in her voice. "You think the baby might be born tonight?" she grabbed a ponytail holder off of her wrist and began to wind up her un-brushed hair, getting ready to rush Below.

"Father has his doubts about tonight, that is, this morning." Vincent said, motioning towards the clock. "But soon. Very soon. We just wanted you to be prepared for later, if Catherine _is_ going into labor-"

"I'll be down in a few minutes." Meg promised.

Vincent shook his head. "Father does not think there is any need for that right now. It could be hours-"

"I'm going." Meg insisted. "I promised to be there for Catherine the _whole_ time, not for just a fraction of it."

"What am I to do?" Mike asked Vincent, still not the most comfortable in Vincent's presence.

"Please do not wake Bailee or Cameryn up." Vincent couldn't help but say as he watched Meg race around the apartment, getting ready to go Below. "There really is nothing to be done right now." Vincent told Mike. "If there was, I would be down there now."

Mike nodded, getting an idea of what Vincent was saying. "So there's absolutely no rush to go Below?"

Vincent nodded. "Even if Catherine is having contractions, there is no need for your wife's assistance until eight o'clock, at least."

"Well, there's no stopping her now." Mike said as Meg hastily pulled shoes on her feet, not bothering to tie them. "I'll just stay here with Bailee and Cameryn, and bring them down around nine." He said more to Meg than Vincent.

"Thanks honey." She gave Mike a peck on the cheek before quietly unlocking Catherine's apartment door and leaving, jogging lightly down the halls, rushing to get to the basement.

Vincent turned and eyed the sky, which was a bit lighter than it was when he first left the security and comfort of his home. "I must go." He told Mike, putting his hood back up and turning around, putting one leg over the balcony. "Thank you, for loaning us your wife."

"No problem." Mike laughed, shivering. He looked at Vincent, surprised. "You're going to climb all the way down there? You'll break your neck!"

Vincent shook his head. "Thank you for your concern, but I have done it countless times before." With that said, he disappeared from sight, descending the large apartment building.

Mike shook his head and blinked, trying to make sense out of what had just happened. He was still so tired after that long flight to New York. Catherine was having her baby or something, so Meg had gone Below to help. Right. That settled, he went back into the bedroom to try to get some more sleep before Bailee or Cameryn woke him up at the crack of dawn.


	33. Chapter 33

Catherine collapsed back on the bed, breathless. "God, that hurts!" she moaned.

"You are just fine, Catherine." Vincent attempted to calm her, gently taking her hand in his. "It lasted sixty seconds."

"Only a minute?" Catherine asked in disbelief. "It felt like sixty minutes!"

"It does, doesn't it?" Meg sympathized, sitting down on the bed next to her cousin, who was recovering from her last contraction. "But don't worry; soon, it'll be all over."

It was now ten o'clock in the morning, the next morning, November 1st. Mary, Peter and Father were in Father's chamber, preparing for the delivery, and discussing in hushed tones about what to do if certain circumstances arose. Vincent and Meg's jobs were to keep track of Catherine's contractions, try to keep her calm, and alert Father of any changes.

"Right." Catherine said, a small smile settling on her face as she looked at Vincent. "In a few hours, all of this worry will be over." She moaned. "God, even though I'm not having any contractions right now, it still hurts!"

"The aches and pains of childbirth." Meg nodded knowingly. "Just try to get your mind off of it."

Vincent suddenly darted out of the chamber and right back, book in hand. "Catherine, how about _Great Expectations_? Just like when we first met."

"Fine. Good." Catherine managed to say as she tried to rest before the certain pain of her next contraction.

Vincent opened the book and began to read the familiar story, but his mind certainly wasn't on it. His mind was on Catherine.

She was, indeed, in labor. A month earlier than Father and Peter predicted. And a month that seemed to come too soon, and yet so fast all at once.

_This is it. _Vincent told himself. _Within the next few hours, you will know about the baby. About… everything you have been wondering about._

_What if Catherine doesn't make it through the labor? _He thought suddenly, looking at her. _What if I lose her? What if these are my last hours with Catherine? What if we lose the baby? What if we lose both Catherine and the baby?_

"Vincent?" Catherine said strangely. "You've stopped reading." His voice had been a good distraction for her.

Vincent went back to reading the story, his mind still running wildly on the prospect of the labor not ending as hoped. The grief and pain if either Catherine or the baby were lost would be unbearable. Such pain would hit Vincent's core, like a bolt of lightening, and he would die as well. He knew it was a fact. Now that he knew Catherine, there would be no way he could possibly live without her.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"There is no way we are going to be able to keep that child out of the chamber," Mary argued with the two men. "He is going to want to be there for Catherine, and she will likely want him there." she gave the 'a look'. "And he has every right to be there."

"When I practiced Above, husbands were only rarely present." Father scoffed. "And Vincent is not even-"

"Were you present for Devin's birth?" Mary pointed out.

"Those were completely different circumstances-" Father scoffed.

"Things have changed." Peter interrupted the two. "Things have changed since the time of Devin's birth." he looked at Father. "It is perfectly normal for the father to be present at birth, and while I see your reasoning, Jacob, we have no right to keep him out."

"It's for the best." Mary reminded Father. "He can help Catherine and-"

"I know that his being there is good for Catherine." Father stated. "I'm just not so sure being there would be good for him. We're looking a some long, tedious hours in intense pain for Catherine."

"It would drive him mad if she were going through that pain while he was elsewhere." Peter said. "You know what it was like, Peter – you would have done anything to take the pain from Grace. I was that way with my wife, and out of all the babies I've delivered, most all of their father's had the same attitude."

There was not really a problem with Vincent being present during the baby's birth, Father knew. No problem at all. In fact, usually when there was a baby born, Father depended on his son's assistance if needed. But this was... different. Father had more than a few doubts about the birth going smoothly, and he just wanted to... protect Vincent from any horrific or saddening things that could – and probably would happen. He just wanted to shield him from any possible trouble or distress... he knew it was impossible, but the agony Catherine would go through during birth would drive Vincent up the wall, so to speak. Vincent would possibly appear calm though, for Catherine's sake, and Catherine would probably be in too much pain to notice the sheer panic running through Vincent...

"Mary," Peter said suddenly. "Why don't you go do something relaxing? It could be hours before Catherine officially starts 'having the baby' and we need to be all alert and ready."

"Thank you, Peter." Mary said, slipping from Father's chamber. Yes, it was true that it would be better to be refreshed when it was time for the delivery, but Peter did not do the best job in the world of not showing that he wanted to speak to Father alone.

She went down the hall and into the nursery, where Olivia and another woman, Vera, were keeping an eye on the children – Bailee and Cameryn, included. The two women turned expectedly towards Mary.

"Has she had the baby yet?" Olivia asked eagerly.

"Nonsense, Olivia." Vera said. "It will be hours from now – possibly days. Need I even remind you of how tedious Luke's birthing was?"

"Every birth, woman, and child is different." Olivia reminded the older woman in defense.

Mary shook her head. It seemed like Olivia and Vera always got along like a cat and dog – and yet, that's what made them family.

"No, she hasn't yet, Olivia." Mary answered, sinking into a chair. "Vera's right – it could be hours, though I highly doubt days." She took a look at Bailee and Cameryn, who were playing with the other children their age quite comfortably. They didn't even seem to notice how different their surroundings wee from Up Top. "Where is Mike?"

"Cullen took him down to his workshop." Vera said. "Mike seems to have somewhat of an interest in his carvings, and there is no need to him to watch the girls when we can do it ourselves." she gazed fondly at the two youngsters. "Such darling children."

"So, what does Father think?" Olivia asked. "Does he think the birth will go smoothly?"

"Olivia, hush." Mary warned the younger woman in a low voice, not wanting the children to overhear. They were all, of course, all very young, no older than five or six, and not paying any attention in the least way, but just the same, there was no need to have so many children fretting over something no one could help.

"I think Father is more worried than he has let on." Mary continued to both women. "He didn't admit to it, but I saw the look on his face just moments ago in his chamber. There are many risks to childbirth, more so increased what with what the baby might be, but now, a prematurely-born baby, by a month?" she shook her head. "I think Peter is very worried too, and there is plenty to worry about."

"Where are they now?" Olivia asked.

"Peter and Father? Talking in Father's chamber, yet." Mary explained. "Probably talking over procedures, possibilities, what to do should something happen, plan B's and C's, et cetera." she shook her head. "I just cannot say I saw this coming, the baby being premature. I really didn't."

"No one did." Olivia reminded Mary. "And its not like we had any major signs to tell us until now."

"I think all of this 'premature' nonsense is just that... nonsensically premature." Vera added her opinion, getting to use her favorite word, 'nonsense', twice. "The child may be late, for all we know. In case everyone hasn't forgotten, Catherine has either been pregnant for over a year, or she is going through an impossible-pregnancy. And it wouldn't surprise me if this would be like any other animal's birth; the pregnancy duration being very long, or short." Vera was very abrasive and down-to-the-point, basically, no nonsense. No beating around the bush for her. Mary wasn't quite sure if Vera was comparing the birth to an animal because of Vincent or because some textbooks refer to humans as a breed of animal, but it didn't really matter – in a sense, though a bit unjust on both sides, both applied.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

"Mary, why don't you go do something relaxing? It could be hours before Catherine officially starts 'having the baby' and we need to be all alert and ready." Peter suggested, hoping Mary would get the message – he needed to talk to Jacob alone.

Mary nodded, making her way to the exit. "Thank you, Peter." she said, and then disappeared down the corridor. Yes, she definitely understood – she was gifted in that way.

"Jacob, you don't even have to tell me." Peter said. "I know what your thinking."

"Do you now?" Father scoffed. "Really? You haven't the slightest clue."

"I said 'thinking', not 'feeling'." Peter clarified. "I think you 'thinking' and here it is; 'What am I going to do? What if this happens? What if that happens? If I do the slightest thing wrong, I could lose my grandchild, daughter-in-law, _and_ son'. You are thinking 'I don't even know what the wrong this _is_, or the right thing. Nothing like this has been ever done before. I'm dabbling in unexplored waters – with my son's heart outside his body'. Am I anywhere close?"

"Nice." Father retorted, trying to change the subject. "Catherine is Vincent's heart outside his body... interesting logic."

"Jacob, I love them, too – Catherine and Vincent." Peter reminded Jacob. "I have known them since infancy... if I could relieve them of any grief or pain, I would do it in a heartbeat. But I can't. I can only do my best to prevent the grief or pain, and then try to ease them through what they have to go through. And you cannot do much more than that."

Father looked at Peter a bit gruffly, in defeat. "After all these years, you can read me like a book, can't you?"

"Jacob, I've always been able to read you like a book," Peter joked, trying to humor the situation that wasn't humorous in the slightest. "Jacob, right now, there's nothing we can do but monitor her contractions, encourage her, and keep an eye on things. You know that."

"Maybe she should have a cesarean." Jacob mused.

"You know too well we're not set up for that here." Peter told Jacob. "I think she'll be fine, Jacob. And so will Vincent and the baby. Should things go downhill in the slightest, St. Vincents is not too far at all."

"I know – I'm being an old fool." Jacob said, working his way out of his chamber, using his cane for assistance.

"Why don't you reassure Vincent?" Peter suggested.

Jacob shook his head. "He is very calm and cool about these kind of things. I suspect he is doing just fine – and he will not want Catherine to know of any panic he does have, I am sure."

Peter furrowed his brows. "Your trying to say that Vincent isn't worried in the slightest?" he asked as they walked down the corridor together, towards the baby's chamber.

"Oh, 'worried' certainly does not describe it. It is a much greater fear than that."Father said. "But he is not going to let himself feel anything, for Catherine's sake." he glanced at Peter. "I can read him almost as well as you can read me." he said somewhat dryly.

Peter nodded. "Good. Let's keep the humor. We're going to need it."

Father couldn't help but agree. The next so many hours were going to be anything but funny.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

Catherine couldn't describe the feeling running through her entire body. It _hurt_. Even when her muscles weren't actually contracting, the pain from belly to even her feet was unbearable. She had never had pain so bad before where other body parts that were completely unrelated were affected, but here she was, in such pain her _foot_ was hurting. Meg said it was completely normal, but it was still very odd.

"How're you feeling, Cathy?" Meg asked Catherine softly. It was now noon, and the two women were alone in the chamber. They had finally talked Vincent into getting something to eat, and maybe a bit of work done – someone would get him if any changes took place. It had taken a lot of convincing, but he finally agreed, not wanting to cause Catherine any more stress.

"Okay, I guess."Catherine said with a sigh, and a slight moan. "Even though I'm not having contractions right this instant, it still hurts!"

"I know." Meg said sympathetically. "But look at it this way; soon it'll all be over and you'll have a baby. Think of it – a baby! And this entire pregnancy will be over."

"That is one thing that is still so hard for me to grasp." Catherine admitted. "On one hand, it seems like FOREVER since I found out that I was pregnant, but on the other hand, it feels like only a few days ago. So much has happened between now and then..."

"Have you and Vincent thought of any names yet?' Meg changed the subject. Catherine did not need to be stressing out needlessly.

"Not any definite ones, but a few possibilities." Catherine went along with changing the subject. "We're probably going to wind up giving him a middle name, and naming him Charles Jacob, or Jacob Charles. Which do you think sounds better?"

"Hmm... Jacob Charles Wells... Charles Jacob Wells... both flow well." Meg shrugged. "So I supposed either one. What are you going to call him?"

"Probably Jacob." Catherine said. She sighed. "It's going to be so nice to have this baby out in the world. I can't wait to not be pregnant anymore!"

Meg laughed. "You'll be missing all of it in no time." Meg said. "Are you prepared for pulling all-nighters with the baby?"

"As prepared as I'll ever be." Catherine said. "Do you-" suddenly she took in a sharp breath. "Here we got again." she said with gritted teeth.

Meg checked her watch. "It's been twenty-one minutes since your last one. Last time they were twenty-six minutes apart."

"God!" Catherine exclaimed in pain. "I'm never doing this again!"

"You'll change your mind." Meg said gently, taking her cousin's hand. "Would you like me to go get Vincent?"

Catherine shook her head. "No – but he'll probably want to know about the changes in the contractions – and so will Father and Peter." she loosened her grip on Meg's hand as the contraction's pain started to ease.

"Still sixty seconds." Meg timed the contraction. "Are you okay here by yourself while I go tell Father about the time change?"

"Do I look like I'm going anywhere?" Catherine tried to smile, succeeding wearily. "Be sure to tell him its no big deal though. I don't want him to be worried."

"All right." Meg promised, leaving Catherine's side, and the chamber.


	34. Chapter 34

Vincent stirred the stew around in the bowl, not paying any attention to it. He was too distracted. Catherine had been having contractions for hours, nineteen of them to be exact. He couldn't stand it. He did his best to stay out of the chamber, simply because both Father and Catherine encouraged him too. And he couldn't help but admit to himself that it was for the better, but it wasn't easy to work, eat, teach, or anything else when he knew Catherine was in pain. And whilst he couldn't literally physically feel her pain, he could sense it. And he would give anything to stop Catherine's pain. But there was absolutely nothing he could do, in this situation. Catherine had to go through the pain before it could stop. Vincent wasn't used to not being able to do anything about a situation, for sure. And what made it worse was the fact that he was responsible for her pain. Yes, very indirectly responsible, but just the same.

"You haven't touched your stew." Mary commented gently. "It's late – you need to eat. Save your strength for Catherine."

Vincent took one bite of the now cold stew and swallowed hard. He just couldn't eat. He felt so... helpless. He couldn't do anything to help Catherine with the pain... he had never been in that situation before, or at least from what he could remember. Then again, he was pretty helpless the time he had been captured by the scientists at the university, but this was different. The idea that Catherine was in peril and he couldn't help hurt. He just couldn't eat, such a normal task, with that going on.

He pushed the bowl away and stood up. "Thank you, Mary." he thanked the older woman, and then left, towards the baby's chamber. He had stayed out of there for most of the day, at Catherine's request, but now he had to stay in there with her. The pain was about to worsen, as the time came closer, and he needed to be with her.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

"Catherine, you can't push yet." Meg told Catherine earnestly. "Your contractions are only nine minutes apart."

"When can I?" Catherine asked through gritted teeth, the pain of the contraction going throughout her body. She had been putting up with these pains for nineteen hours – she should be able to push by now.

"When they are closer together" Meg reminded Catherine. "Father, and most all doctors, say five minutes."

"Catherine?" They heard Vincent's voice outside the chamber.

"Come in." Catherine said, letting out an exhausted sigh. The contractions were getting closer, and lasting longer. It was so exhausting.

Vincent stepped in and immediately came to Catherine's side, grasping her hands in his. "Are you all right, Catherine?" he asked worriedly. She looked a bit paler than she had last time he had seen her, a few hours ago.

"Fine." she said, though she didn't look it. "When is Father coming back in?"

"I don't know." Vincent said. He looked over her carefully. "Why?"

"I'll be back in a bit." Meg excused herself, getting up from the chair that set beside the chair. Vincent and Catherine could use some private time before the baby was born.

"If you could bring Father when you come back, we would appreciate it." Vincent said to Meg, who nodded in reply before leaving. Vincent then turned his full attention back to Catherine. "How are you really feeling?"

"Tired and sore." Catherine admitted.

"You haven't started pushing yet?" Vincent checked with her.

She shook her head wearily. "No, unfortunately. Father says I have to wait until my contractions are five minutes apart."

"Father is wise – he knows what he is doing." Vincent assured her.

"I know that. It's just that when the contractions come on, my body feels the need to push." Catherine explained. "And I can't wait to get this over with. I mean, being pregnant has definitely been an experience, but I cannot exactly say its been fun, or what I've always imagined." she glanced over at Vincent. "Not that its been a bad experience." she assured him.

"Some circumstances we could have done without." Vincent put her thoughts into words for her. "Such as the broken bones and the sickness."

Catherine laughed dryly. "I wish I hadn't been so stupid, to run off on my own and hurt my ankle like that."

"Let us just be thankful you only hurt your ankle." Vincent said to her,but his thoughts were different. He was actually glad things had worked out the way they had. Yes, he preferred Catherine not to have had to hurt her ankle like she had, but it had kept her Below, which kept her and the baby safe. And another thing – a selfish one – Vincent had access to her like he didn't when she was Above. He could see her any time of every day, and he cherished that, especially now. She would be going home to Above very soon, within two or three weeks, and whilst they would certainly see each other every day, it just would not be the same. But then again, they were both about to become parents. Life couldn't ever be as it was ever again, anyhow. And yet, as good as that was,and the many trials it seemed they soon might have to face, Vincent had a feeling that things were going to get better, better than they were before all of the events that had taken place over the past ten months or so.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

"I can't, I can't." Catherine breathed heavily, falling back on the pillows behind her.

"Yes, you can, Catherine. Your doing fine." Peter encouraged the young woman. "Just fine."

Catherine didn't reply, instead, she reached out and clasped Vincent's hand, tightly. "I can't do this." she said to him, as if he were the only one in the room, and she was breathing her last breath.

"You are stronger than that, Catherine." Vincent encouraged her, brushing her damp hair off of her sweaty forehead with his furred fingers. "You are doing fine." He wished he could tell her that 'everything would be all right', or at least something different than what Peter had just gotten done saying, but what was left to say? He couldn't, and wouldn't, make promises he could not keep to Catherine.

Suddenly Catherine took in a sharp breath and let out a moan. "Not again."

"It's all right, Catherine." Father instructed her. "Now, breathe and push."

Catherine's cries of pain, and her exhaustion was taking a toll on Vincent. He would give anything, anything, to take any pain from Catherine. But there was nothing he could do. Nothing but hold her hand, encourage her, and pray.

Meg arrived in the room with a armful of new white towels from Above. "Where should I sit these?"

"On that table – bring me one though, then go take Cathy's other hand." Peter directed the young woman.

"Make it stop!" Catherine cried out through gritted teeth.

"I cannot do that, Catherine." Vincent told her, tears streaming down his face. He would gladly go through the pain for Catherine, and would do nearly anything to make her pain stop. But he couldn't.

"Make it stop!" she insisted again, louder, with even more agony.

Vincent, who was on his knees beside the bed, looked up at Father. Father shook his head helplessly. There was nothing he could do to stop the pain.

"Squeeze my hand harder." Vincent tried in vain as Catherine again tried to push.

"I can't." she huffed, falling back on the bed with pain and exhaustion.

The contraction done, with Peter, Meg and Mary still in the chamber with them, Father pulled his son aside, into the long, dimly lit corridor, away from other people's ears. "Vincent, you need to stay calm for Catherine."

"Father, I-" Vincent began.

"No, Vincent." Father said somewhat sharply. Seeing the somewhat hurt and angered look on his son's face, he took a deep breath and tried again. "I know how it feels, Vincent, to have the women you love be in pain - and peril. Had I the chance to go back, I might have left Grace alone in Mary and Peter's hands just so I I could express my cries and worry away from her." he paused a moment, wondering if he really would have given up his final moments with her, so she wouldn't have worried as much, knowing he was worried.

"I cannot do that, Father." Vincent said firmly, turning to go back into the chamber. "She knows how I feel whether I am there or not, so I would rather-"

"My point is, Vincent," Father reached out and grabbed his son at the elbow to stop him from walking back into the chamber. "If you can do your best for Catherine to think you are calm and fine, even if you are not, it would-"

"I will not lie to Catherine." Vincent objected.

"I am not asking you to!" Father exclaimed, exasperated. He didn't always have this much trouble with Vincent, but it seemed as of late, it was happening more frequently than either of them would have liked.

Vincent let out a deep breath. "Father, I am worried. If Catherine and I did not have our bond, she would know I am worried. I love her, Father. I love the baby. I cannot sit around and pretend nothing will happen, because something may." his eyes started to cover in mist as he voiced his fears to Father. "These may be my last hours with them."

Jacob did not know quite what to say to that. Yes, he had been there before, but there was not much advice he could give on the subject. "It will be easier on Catherine if you at least try to remain calm." He found himself saying. "She will know you are worried and that is all right, but if you are afraid, her fear may increase, and she may start to weaken..." he didn't finish. Vincent knew what he was implying. He meant that the less worried Catherine was, the quicker and easier the birthing would be, and it bettered chance of everyone making it out alive.

Jacob enveloped his much larger son in a hug. "We're doing our best, Vincent." he assured his son, rubbing his back in attempt to comfort him from the enormous pain he knew Vincent was feeling.

Vincent lightly laid his head against Father's shoulder. He didn't know what to say to that. Of course Father, Peter, and Mary were doing their best. They loved Catherine as well. As a daughter, a young friend, a Helper... of course they were doing their best. Vincent didn't even know why Father reassured him with that, but maybe it wasn't so important what he said as it was that something was said...

Suddenly Catherine gave out another cry and Peter started coaching her through the pushing process. Vincent jerked his head up and looked towards the chamber, then turned back to Father, a worried expression on his face.

Father wasn't about to give his son the whole speech about women having babies every day, how Catherine would be fine and all of that, because #1, Catherine wasn't having a normal pregnancy, much less a normal baby, and #2, Father couldn't guarantee that Catherine would be fine. He would not lie to Vincent.

Suddenly Catherine gave an extra loud cry of pain, which sent both Vincent and Father bolting into the chamber.

"Jacob! Vinc-" Peter stopped when he noticed that they were all ready in the chamber. "The baby's head is crowning! Catherine, push!"

"I can't!" Catherine breathed heavily. "I can't!"

"Breathe, Catherine – just breathe." Mary told Catherine.

Vincent re-took his place kneeling by Catherine's side, grasping her hand. She squeezed her hand so tightly to his to try to help herself through the pain, he could only imagine what she was going through.

"Push, Catherine!" Peter urged her. "The baby's coming – push!"

"You can do it, Cathy!" Meg urged.

Vincent took a clean handkerchief out of his pocket and gently wiped the pouring sweat off of Catherine's forehead, feeling so helpless. There was absolutely nothing he could do to ease her pain, to make it stop, and he hated that. There was nothing anyone could do to make the pain stop, of course, aside from getting the baby out, but Father, Mary and Peter, and Peter could at least do that. There was nothing for Vincent to do.

A loud cry brought Vincent back to earth. It wasn't a cry of pain – it was a baby's cry.

Vincent quickly turned to Catherine, who was collapsed on the bed, breathing heavily, so exhausted. "Catherine, your done." he assured her. "You did it. Its all over." he said.

Catherine didn't have the strength or energy to respond. Instead she very gently squeezed his hand in response – hardly a squeeze though – she was so exhausted.

She was fine, Vincent knew. The relief that came over him as soon as he knew that is indescribable. He did not realize how worried he was about her until then.

Mary smiled warmly at Catherine. "It's all over, Catherine."

"Where's my baby?" Catherine asked weakly.

"Right here, Catherine." Peter said, carrying over a tiny bundle. "Here is your baby girl."


	35. Chapter 35

"Where's my baby?" Catherine asked. Though weak, she lifted her head up slightly from the pillow, eager to see the baby who she already adored so much.

"Right here, Catherine." Peter answered, placing a small bundle in Catherine's arms. "Here is your baby girl."

"Girl?" Both Catherine, Meg, Vincent and Mary cried at once. Mary had been at Catherine's side, pressing cool clothes against her head and such when the baby was born.

"12:04 PM." Father shut his pocket watch. "A beautiful, healthy, normal girl."

Suddenly Catherine gasped in pain, then moaned.

"What's wrong, Catherine?" Vincent asked concernedly, with Father, Mary and Peter all about to ask the question, only a split second too late.

Mary swiftly took the bundle out of Catherine's arms and placed it into Vincent's, handing him a bottle full of warm milk from God only knows where. "Go meet your daughter in your chamber, Vincent and stay there until I tell you." she told him.

My chamber? But Catherine... Vincent thought as he obediently left the chamber and went into another his, only a few feet away from the chamber where Catherine lay. The corridor was empty – likely everyone was trying to avoid being underfoot.

The last thing he wanted to do was leave Catherine side, but he knew he was doing what was best. Mary wouldn't have told him to leave if it wasn't for the good of Catherine and him. Catherine would be taken care of, for sure, he had no doubt. Something was going on, something odd and unexpected, but Catherine certainly wasn't in danger. If she were, he'd feel it.

He carefully pulled the cloth away from the baby's face, just enough to actually get a look at it. And what he say made him gasp in surprise.

The baby was normal. Normal face, normal mouth, normal nose – and thankfully bald instead of a mane like Vincent was fearing.

And it was a girl! Vincent could not believe that. A girl? They had been expecting a boy since day one... it just seemed... natural. They had never really even considered that Catherine might have a girl. Not that anything was wrong with that. Vincent was pleased as could be that both the baby and Catherine made it through alive – and that the baby at least appeared normal was more than he could have hoped or asked for.

Tentatively and gently, he brushed her little cheek with his free index finger. She was so beautiful, so delicate! Each feature shaped perfectly... her chubby, bright red cheeks, her little nose, her intricately-shaped little lips. She was beautiful. Perfect. Words could not describe Vincent's pride. She looked as he imagined Catherine must have when she was a baby.

She is rather quiet for a newborn, Vincent mused, She cried when she was born, but only a few moments after, fell asleep after being tightly wrapped in the blanket. So of course she was quiet, but it just struck him as a bit unusual.

She opened her tiny mouth and gave a itty-bitty yawn, to which Vincent smiled, baring his white fangs fully. No fangs, or signs of teeth at all.

Cautiously, he put the nipple of the bottle into her mouth. She was asleep, yes, but she just might suck just the same. She was less than ten minutes old, but needed something, to be sure. Most children born were given to their mother's breast only minutes after delivery, but this baby unfortunately didn't have this luxury.

What is wrong with Catherine? Vincent's thoughts went back. What is going on in her chamber that I should not be present for?

He took a deep breath, trying to decide what to do. He couldn't just not be there. Yes, someone did have to hold the baby, but he could do that by Catherine's side.

Without further thought, he left his chamber and headed back into Catherine's.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

"Breathe Catherine – just breathe!" Mary urged Catherine on, wiping the younger woman's sweat off her forehead.

Catherine groaned loudly. The pain was getting more and more intense... the room wasn't so clear anymore... then she was surrounded by darkness. No pain – just darkness.

"Catherine!" Peter ran to the woman's side and started immediately checking for a pulse. She was alive. She was fine.

"She just passed out." Meg said to Peter. "The pain..."

"But the baby is out, and thats the most important thing." Mary said.

Father wasn't listening to their conversation. It was as if they weren't in the room. He just looked at what was in his arms, but gave up when his vision blurred, thanks to tears.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

Vincent quietly stepped into the chamber. Catherine lied still on the bed, but she was alive, Vincent knew that. Not only could he see her steady breaths, but he could also feel her, inside. She was asleep.

Father, Peter, and Mary were huddled in a little circle, exchanging extremely quiet whispers, talking about something with urgency. They were looking at something in the middle of their circle... what could it possibly be?

Vincent crept closer, not meaning to sneak up on them. He couldn't quite make out what they were saying, even though his hearing was so keen. Whatever they were whispering about though, it likely involved him, his baby, or his Catherine though. He knew deep inside he wasn't supposed to listen to their conversation, thats why he had been sent into the other chamber, but he was not a child.

"I cannot believe this." Mary said, shaking her head.

"It was unexpected." Peter agreed. "But we should have been able to tell that there was another. With modern medicine and knowledge... even though we were not using all the modern equipment and methods, we could have at least suspected..."

What were they talking about? And what was Father holding? Vincent peered over Father's shoulder and immediately heard a cry of surprise and pain, not even realizing it was his own.

He stumbled backwards, in complete shock. He could not believe this. His world was so perfect a few moments ago, and now...

Father, Meg, Peter, and Mary all turned to face Vincent in shock, startled, not having known he was behind them before Vincent had cried out. And it did not take a brain surgeon for them to know why he had cried out so; it was simple – he had seen the other baby Father was holding.

Mary quickly took the sleeping baby girl from Vincent's arms. He would never hurt her, drop her, or let anything happen to her, but just for her safety, it would not be wise for her father to be holding her at such a time. When he was deep in emotional pain, he was unpredictable.

"Vincent," Father tried, barely being able to keep himself from breaking down into tears for his son, Catherine, and grandchildren.

Vincent did not respond. He just leaned against the stone wall and breathed heavily, his eyes rolling back into his head. It could not have happened. Everything was going amazingly well – nothing was supposed to go wrong now.

"It will be all right, Vincent." Mary gently tried to offer him words of comfort, but they had the opposite effect; Vincent ran from the chamber.

Father silently handed Peter what was lying in his arms and started after his son. He knew where Vincent would be going.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

Vincent ran blindly from the chamber. He could not believe it. Catherine had twins? There was another baby?

Father had been holding a baby. A baby who had been wiped off after leaving the womb, but still very wet and sticky, thanks to the fur that it was covered with. A baby with a head full of hair, or should one say, mane. A baby with a flattened nose, broad cheekbones, the works.

Other tunnelers gave Vincent curious stares as Vincent ran by, but did not say anything to him. Vincent was running too quickly for them to say anything to him, and by his obvious condition, it was not

Tears blinded Vincent, but it didn't matter; he had been where he was going so many times, it wasn't necessary for him to actually see where he was going.

He did not stop until he reached his destination; the bridge over the abyss. There, he stopped, leaning over to catch his breath, trying to re-gather his thoughts.

Whilst Catherine had been in intense labor, he hadn't given much thought at all to what the baby may look like, and of the baby's nature. And then when he saw the baby girl, he allowed himself to think that everything would be fine, that everything was perfect. And then, not five minutes later, there was another baby – like Vincent.

There are no words to describe the sheer pain ripping through Vincent at that moment. The great anguish and torture he felt, for his responsible at that moment was too great to even describe. When one has a time like that, they know that mere words cannot describe the pain, agony, and torture one feels, and if one has not experienced a time like that, no matter how remotely similar, they cannot possibly imagine it.

"Vincent," Vincent heard a voice behind him say firmly, but gently. Vincent did not have to turn around to know who it was; it was Father.

"Vincent, Father repeated. "Catherine is doing well. The babies are both healthy. You are the father of twins."

Vincent did not answer that. He had already found that one out; the second infant lying in Father's arms made that one obvious, though he was relived by hearing that the second baby was alive and well, despite the baby's outer appearance.

"He's a boy." Father continued after a pause.

Vincent did not answer. His mind was in a whirl of thoughts, all plaguing him down.

Father shook his head. He could not imagine what was going on in Vincent's head right then. No matter how many times he had tried to prepare Vincent for what might happen, no matter how many times he had rehearsed this moment in his head, it all did not matter any longer. What words of comfort could he give his son?

"Catherine will be waking soon." Father reminded Vincent. "She will likely want you there when she awakens."

"I will be there." Vincent said non-chalantly. He would know when Catherine was soon to waken, and would be there to support her, if needed.

"Your children, Vincent." Father said earnestly, trying to break through to his son. "They need you as well right now."

Vincent let his head fall back against the stone wall and didn't answer Father. He just did not know what to say. There were no words to say.

He is in shock. Father realized. And he's hurt and angry – at himself. He blames himself for the second baby's appearance, and perhaps nature as well. And whilst its not exactly Vincent's fault, it is, though its something that is unfair to cast blame on... he feels miserable for the child, for the life ahead of him.

Father attempted to block the few tears threatening to burst from his own eyes. Although he had seen what Vincent's life was growing up, he could not imagine what it was like. And now, his grandson had the same fate...

Grandson! He was a grandfather! The thought hit him hard. It was so hard to believe...

He wrapped his arms around his son. There was not much more he could do to comfort Vincent.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

"Remarkable," Peter breathed, holding the small, weak child. "He looks just like Vincent when Vincent came here."

"Only bigger." Mary remarked, also gazing at the tiny child lying contentedly in Peter's arms, content to suck from a bottle instead of Catherine's breast.

"You think?" Peter questioned, looking from the baby, to Mary, back to the baby. "I don't think so... and this one is a twin, so he'd be naturally smaller than most babies..."

"Maybe Vincent was a twin as well." Mary said quietly.

Peter looked up, his eyes wide. "Do you think?"

Mary shook her head. "I don't know... I have never thought of it before. Maybe he was, or is, a twin, maybe not."

Peter looked back at the child and chuckled to himself. "What are they planning on calling the little fuzzball?"

"Peter!" Mary admonished. "Don't make fun of him!" She tried to hide her smile at the term of endearment, for it described the baby perfectly.

"I wasn't making fun." Peter said. "I was just saying... he does look like a ball of fuzz. Like a kitten."

"Like Vincent did." Mary reminded Peter. She cocked her head. "Didn't we have this same conversation before?"

"Almost forty years ago." Peter said. "A similar one, yes... a very similar one seeing is how it was a foursome there and a foursome now."

"Foursome?" Mary looked around the room. "Meaning me, you, and the two babies?"

Peter nodded. "I'm not counting Catherine, as she's out like a light."

"How was it a foursome last time?"

"You, me, Vincent – and Paracelsus." Peter said 'Paracelsus' as if it were a curse word.

Mary shook her head. "I don't remember Paracelsus being there."

"He was." Peter affirmed. "Its the first time I started to get suspicious of his motives with the child."

Mary sighed, once again shaking her head. "Well, this time, there is no Paracelsus, thank God."

Meg came over to them, from Catherine's bedside. "Are you sure she is all right?" She asked concernedly about her cousin.

"She's fine." Peter assured Meg. "If she weren't, we would tell you."

"Do you remember the pain of having Cameryn?" Mary asked Meg. "Well, imagine that, but a lot rougher. Poor Catherine did not have pain medicine or anything... and she is so weak from having been in the bed so long. In a few hours, she should awaken, alive and well, and ready to nurse and nurture her children." She smiled at the young woman who was so concerned over Catherine, so kind and caring. "She'll be fine; would you like to hold the baby?"

Meg nodded and tentatively took the wrapped-up baby from Mary, and took her place in Mary's chair, after Mary stood up and started busying around the room, cleaning up the catastrophe that they made in the past ten hours.

"How much do they weigh?" Meg asked suddenly.

"We haven't weighed them, yet." Peter told her. "But they are very small, especially the boy... I would doubt the girl weighs more than 6 pounds, likely a lot less."

"'The Boy', 'The Girl'." Meg sighed. "What are they going to name them?"

"I don't know." Mary answered. "I know they were thinking something along the lines of Jacob or Charles, in honor of their fathers for the boy, but I don't think they even really considered a name for a girl... the naming ceremony won't be for at least a week or so, so they've got time to decide on a name. And that is probably going to be the last thing on their minds, anyways."

Meg peered at the little baby boy. "Wow." she giggled. "Just how you described Vincent as a baby."

"He's identical, isn't he?" Mary agreed.

Suddenly the baby opened his eyes and look up at Peter sleepily, to which Peter laughed. "Not quite." he said. "He's got green-blue eyes. They look like they'll turn green as he gets older, like Catherine's."

"What color does she have?" Meg referred to the sleeping girl in her arms.

"Haven't barely had time to see." Peter replied. "Everything has been a whirlwind for the past half hour... hopefully when Vincent comes back, things will calm down."


	36. Chapter 36

"There is no possible way I can allow him to live the way I did." Vincent finally said, after the long weeping silence."Locked up Below, have 'different' and such forced upon him, fears of being caught by someone and turned into a zoo animal..." he shook his head. "I cannot do that to him."  
Father sighed, not saying anything to Vincent. He knew full well that Vincent wasn't finished.  
"You were good to me, Father." Vincent said sincerely. "Between you and everyone else from our community, I have been given more love than many people have – more than anyone could possibly ask for. And whilst I can guarantee our child the same love... his life will still be so much like mine, only I cannot guarantee it will turn out so well."  
"But he'll know that you and Catherine love him, and are trying your best." Father reminded Vincent, deciding now would be a good time to intervene with speech.  
"That does not take the pain away." Vincent said honestly. "And it does not change what horrific things lay ahead for him – nothing will." He looked at Father, helplessly. "I love him, and would give anything to change his circumstances."  
Father nodded. "I have felt the same thing, Vincent, countless times through the years, every day, that is what I think and feel." he told Vincent. "But right now, all that baby needs is love."  
Vincent nodded. "I know."  
"He will likely not even be aware that is different until he is much, much older." Father continued. "And no matter what, Vincent, this is our world. He can do anything and everything down here."  
"I highly doubt he will be content to stay down here, Father." Vincent said with a sigh. "That's over half the problem." He shook his head. "We'll just have to take this one day at a time, I suppose."  
"Do you want to go back?" Father suggested. "To hold the babies, and wait for Catherine to wake?"  
Vincent nodded. "Yes, Father. Go on ahead. I would like to rest her a few more moments, by myself."  
Father hesitated before nodding and then turning and leaving. The shock of what just happened had yet to settle with Vincent. Not only the shock that he was now officially a father, but a father to twins, one who looked just like he did.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

Vincent tentatively took a step into Catherine and the babies' chamber. There was Catherine, lying asleep on the bed, just as Vincent had left her. The room was empty, with the exception of Mary, sitting down, cradling each sleeping baby in each arm.  
She smiled up at him. "I'll leave you four alone." she said with a smile, thinking of the newly formed family. She stood and carefully placed the girl in the crook of Vincent's left arm, and the boy in the right arm. Then she turned and left the chamber.  
Vincent lightly sat down on the edge of Catherine's bed, which he now was very accustomed to, after spending as much time as possible at her side during the pregnancy. He look at her sleeping form; she looked so peaceful, so quiet... he was glad she got to rest – she needed it after such a hard time birthing the twins. But in only ten hours? That was quite impressive.  
He then looked down to the sleeping figures in his arms. His attention was immediately drawn to the one on the right, the one covered with fur, or rather, fuzz. Vincent had to smile slightly at that one; the fuzz was nothing like his fur. The baby's fuzz was much lighter, and thinner, and just...fuzz. It looked rather ridiculous.  
Vincent chuckled, lightly tracing the baby's fuzz-covered cheek with his fur covered finger. His cheeks were broad and his nose flat, so much like his own. And even Vincent had to admit, the baby was adorable.  
He wondered what the baby's hands looked like; did he have claws at the end, or fingernails? And the bottoms of his feet; were they padded like Vincent's, or normal? But as the baby was wrapped up securely in a small blanket, and Vincent had not a free hand, he couldn't see.  
He looked at the baby sleeping soundly in his left arm. A girl? He still could not believe it. They did not expect a girl at all. Vincent tried to remember if the possibility of a girl had crossed his mind once; he couldn't remember if it had, but if it had, he had dismissed it quickly.  
Not that he did not want a girl. He did. He smiled softly at her red, wrinkled face, the kind of face most babies were born with. She seemed to be squeezing her eyes shut, her mouth shut... it was adorable. He couldn't help but notice that her nose seemed a little upturned, but it was nothing like her brother's. She was so beautiful...  
Vincent felt Catherine stir. He turned slightly to face her better, what with the babies in his arms. That's when he realized she didn't stir physically – she stirred on the inside. In other words, her mind was waking up, but her body hadn't moved.  
He had felt her! Their bond was back. The babies were only an hour old, but it seemed as soon as they were born, the bond was back! Inside, Vincent was rejoicing. He felt on top of the world now; everything was perfect, back to normal. Well, not back to normal; they had a family now. He, Catherine, little Girl, and little Boy. They were a family of their own. He was a father... he had pretty much gotten used to the fact that he would be a father soon, they it didn't seem real, but now that it had happened... words could not describe the feeling. And he had never quite realized that they were now a small family. Of course, everyone Below was like family, but Vincent and Catherine now had an immediate family.  
He was so overly happy. He felt as if he could conquer anything, do anything, on top of the world... over the moon? He couldn't find the words to describe his current mood, but he knew that he had never felt anything like this before. Nothing this exhilarating and surreal... 'surreal' was the closest match to how he felt, but a mere seven letter word didn't do the feeling justice. What he felt deserved a word of its own – no, it was too great to have a word describe it.  
"Vincent?" heard a foggily-sounding voice behind him.  
He turned to see Catherine awake, though just barely. His Catherine looked exhausted, but happy.  
"Catherine!" he exclaimed tenderly. He showed her the two babies lying in his arms, no words needed.  
Catherine smiled faintly, too exhausted to smile any bigger, but her smile said everything, and their bond more; she thought the babies were beautiful, loved them to death, and felt the same way about Vincent.  
"Shall I get Father?" Vincent asked, knowing that there were medical things to be tended to, yet.  
She shook her head. "Not right now." At his concerned and doubtful look, she explained, "I just want some time for the two of us before our privacy is 'invaded'." she chuckled lightly. "Or the four of us, I suppose."  
"Would you like to hold them?" Vincent offered, not knowing how she could stand to be in the same room with her children and not want to hold them. He certainly wouldn't be able to refrain.  
Catherine nodded, carefully getting into a half-way sitting position, leaning against pillows. "Just one though; I don't think I can handle them both."  
Vincent handed her the younger of the two, the little boy.  
Catherine's eyes widened suddenly as she took the baby. "Oh my God, what have they been eating?"  
"Mary gave them warm milk." Vincent told Catherine. "But knowing infants, the instant they wake up-"  
"They will want a snack." Catherine finished. She looked concerned. "After using a bottle, do you think that they will want to nurse?"  
"They should have little trouble adapting, I imagine." Vincent said, knowing that the babies were only hours old, so it made no difference, really.  
He laid little Girl on Catherine's lap.  
"Where are you going?" Catherine demanded.  
"To get Father." Vincent said. "And to see you have something nourishing to eat."  
"I'm not hungry." Catherine protested.  
"You still need to eat." Vincent affirmed. "Catherine?"  
"What is it?" she asked, gazing fondly at the babies.  
"The bond is back."  
"What? It is?" she looked back up a him, quickly. "How do you know?"  
"I can feel you as I did months ago." Vincent said simply.  
Catherine blinked quickly, as if she was blinking back tears – of happiness, of course. As annoying as it got sometimes, Vincent knowing her emotions, she also loved it, and that they had something special. "I was worried that..."  
"That is was gone forever?" Vincent asked, gently. At her nod, he sighed. "I was worried about that, as well." he affectionately – and carefully – stroked her arm. "But now there are no more mysteries; the babies are born, the bond is back – everything is perfect."  
"Perfect." Catherine said, her eyes shining. "Just perfect."

**THE END... FOR NOW**

**Author's note: **Finished. Finished. Finished. Whoo-hoo! Finished!

I do have a sequel coming out, hopefully by the end of July. I wanted to go further, but as this story is SOOOO long, and all... the sequel is definitely worth tuning in for, though. I promise.

I'd like to thank Earth Guardian, Mini Librarian, and Amber-Jade James, for reviewing faithfully since day #1 (meaning when I posted the story and it came down somehow in October...). I should like to think that even with no reviews, I would have kept writing this story, but not so. When my bad writer's block began, I would have never continued. You guys are awesome and have wonderful taste in television (and fanfic, lol!)!

Also, to Nicole, for sending me into enough guilt-trips to get over my writer's block, and getting me in the mood to write again.

Oh, and to Cassie and J.D.R. - you guys are awesome, too, and I'm sure somehow helped me finish this story, though I don't know how...

Yva J., thanks for being such a good critique. You have a talent for writing, and have a good eye for my BIG typos – you are simply great.

All characters belong to the creators of CBS' Beauty and the Beast, with the exception of Meg, Mike, Bailee, Cameryn, Catherine and Vincent's children, and 95 percent of the named tunnel children. Please do not use without permission - thanks!


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